Poison
Wine knows how to cover the most squalid hellhole,
With a miraculous luxury,
And makes more than one fantastic frame appear,
In the gold of its red steam,
Like a sun hidden in a nebulous sky.
Opium expands that which has no borders,
Elongates the unlimited,
Deepens time, excavates voluptuousness,
And with dark and dreary pleasures
Fills up the soul above its capacity.
All that is not worth the poison which ensues
From your eyes, from your green eyes,
Lakes where my soul trembles and sees itself inside out…
My dreams come in mass
To quench their thirst in these bitter chasms.
All that is not worth the terrible wonder
Of your biting saliva,
That plunges my remorseless soul into oblivion,
And carrying the dizziness,
Rolls it fainting to the shores of death!
Wine knows how to cover the most squalid hellhole,
With a miraculous luxury,
And makes more than one fantastic frame appear,
In the gold of its red steam,
Like a sun hidden in a nebulous sky.
Opium expands that which has no borders,
Elongates the unlimited,
Deepens time, excavates voluptuousness,
And with dark and dreary pleasures
Fills up the soul above its capacity.
All that is not worth the poison which ensues
From your eyes, from your green eyes,
Lakes where my soul trembles and sees itself inside out…
My dreams come in mass
To quench their thirst in these bitter chasms.
All that is not worth the terrible wonder
Of your biting saliva,
That plunges my remorseless soul into oblivion,
And carrying the dizziness,
Rolls it fainting to the shores of death!
Le Poison
Le vin sait revêtir le plus sordide bouge
D'un luxe miraculeux,
Et fait surgir plus d'un portique fabuleux
Dans l'or de sa vapeur rouge,
Comme un soleil couchant dans un ciel nébuleux.
L'opium agrandit ce qui n'a pas de bornes,
Allonge l'illimité,
Approfondit le temps, creuse la volupté,
Et de plaisirs noirs et mornes
Remplit l'âme au delà de sa capacité.
Tout cela ne vaut pas le poison qui découle
De tes yeux, de tes yeux verts,
Lacs où mon âme tremble et se voit à l'envers...
Mes songes viennent en foule
Pour se désaltérer à ces gouffres amers.
Tout cela ne vaut pas le terrible prodige
De ta salive qui mord,
Qui plonge dans l'oubli mon âme sans remords,
Et charriant le vertige,
La roule défaillante aux rives de la mort!
De ta salive qui mord,
Qui plonge dans l'oubli mon âme sans remords,
Et charriant le vertige,
La roule défaillante aux rives de la mort!
No comments:
Post a Comment