Madrigal triste

Everything has come to pass exactly how I wished it to. The mighty have fallen and I grow paler and my clothes get blacker by the day. But it's alright. I no longer feel the same about them or about my own self. It is better to be detached, right? I no longer see myself as participating in the world. Just kind of watching it fall down. He is coming back, though certainly not for me. This time I think I can deal.

This next poem initially hit me like a punch to the gut. I read it aloud for one of my friends and then realized what a sick person I really am. It's one of my favorites.

Sad Madrigal
I.
What importance is it to me that you are wise?
Be beautiful! And be sad! The tears
Add a charm to your face,
Like the river in the landscape;
The storm rejuvenates the flowers.

I love you most when joy
Escapes from your stricken brow;
When your heart drowns in the horror;
When on your present is spread
The dreadful cloud of the past.

I love you when your great eyes pour
Water hot like blood;
When, in spite of my hand that cradles you,
Your anguish, too heavy, pierces
Like a dying man’s groan.

I inhale, divine pleasure!
Deep, delicious hymn!
All the sobs of your breast,
And I believe that your heart is illuminated
In the pearls that pour from your eyes.

II.
I know that your heart, which overflows
With old, eradicated loves,
Still flares up like a forge,
And that you smolder in your breast
A bit of the pride of the damned;

But, my dear, as long as the dreams
Will not have reflected Hell,
And that in a nightmare without respite,
Dreaming of poisons and knives,
In love with powder and iron,

Opening to everyone with fear,
Deciphering misfortune everywhere,
Convulsing when the hour chimes,
You have not felt the embrace
Of the irresistible Disgust,

You cannot, slave, queen,
Who loves me only with terror
In the horror of the unhealthy night
Say to me, soul full of screams:
“I am your equal, oh my King!”

Madrigal triste
I.
Que m'importe que tu sois sage?
Sois belle! Et sois triste! Les pleurs
Ajoutent un charme au visage,
Comme le fleuve au paysage;
L'orage rajeunit les fleurs.

Je t'aime surtout quand la joie
S'enfuit de ton front terrassé;
Quand ton coeur dans l'horreur se noie;
Quand sur ton présent se déploie
Le nuage affreux du passé.

Je t'aime quand ton grand oeil verse
Une eau chaude comme le sang;
Quand, malgré ma main qui te berce,
Ton angoisse, trop lourde, perce
Comme un râle d'agonisant.

J'aspire, volupté divine!
Hymne profond, délicieux!
Tous les sanglots de ta poitrine,
Et crois que ton coeur s'illumine
Des perles que versent tes yeux.

II.
Je sais que ton coeur, qui regorge
De vieux amours déracinés,
Flamboie encor comme une forge,
Et que tu couves sous ta gorge
Un peu de l'orgueil des damnés;

Mais tant, ma chère, que tes rêves
N'auront pas reflété l'Enfer,
Et qu'en un cauchemar sans trêves,
Songeant de poisons et de glaives,
Éprise de poudre et de fer,

N'ouvrant à chacun qu'avec crainte,
Déchiffrant le malheur partout,
Te convulsant quand l'heure tinte,
Tu n'auras pas senti l'étreinte
De l'irrésistible Dégoût,

Tu ne pourras, esclave reine
Qui ne m'aimes qu'avec effroi,
Dans l'horreur de la nuit malsaine
Me dire, l'âme de cris pleine:
«Je suis ton égale, ô mon Roi!»

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She cannot save you. I can but I won't. The anger is crippling me and it is getting me high. Take your poisons elsewhere. You infidels don't deserve this place.