Le Gouffre/Les Plaintes d'un Icare

Winter kills but the solstice should bring new life. If the last few months have taught me anything it is that I should not be in the public eye. I told him "tread with a light foot and a quiet look" but somehow I managed to ignore my own advice. The Moon has left me here, taking his nothingness and his translucent eyes back to the North where one would argue that he belongs. And what, and what then? I cried for a long time, a long long time. I told him not to fear aging and to shine like I knew that he could. Someday he will return but I will be no longer. Off to a warm atmosphere where people care about the changes that I want to bring. It's been nearly three weeks since my Hell began and I am praying that it ends before I do. Please, I implore your mercy, you the only one that I love.

The Abyss
Pascal had his abyss, it moved with him.
—Alas! All is abysmal—action, desire, dream,
Speech! And on my hair which stands up straight
I feel the wind of Fear pass many times.

On high, down below, everywhere, the depth, the shore,
The silence, the awful and captivating space…
On the background of my nights God with his skillful finger
Draws a nightmare, multiform and without respite.

I have the fear of sleep like one has fear of a great hole,
All full of vague horror, leads one where he knows not,
I see only infinity through all the windows,

And my spirit, all haunted by vertigo,
Is jealous of the insensitivity of nothingness.
—Ah! Never to take leave of the Numbers and the Beings!

Le Gouffre
Pascal avait son gouffre, avec lui se mouvant.
— Hélas! tout est abîme, — action, désir, rêve,
Parole! Et sur mon poil qui tout droit se relève
Mainte fois de la Peur je sens passer le vent.

En haut, en bas, partout, la profondeur, la grève,
Le silence, l'espace affreux et captivant...
Sur le fond de mes nuits Dieu de son doigt savant
Dessine un cauchemar multiforme et sans trêve.

J'ai peur du sommeil comme on a peur d'un grand trou,
Tout plein de vague horreur, menant on ne sait où;
Je ne vois qu'infini par toutes les fenêtres,

Et mon esprit, toujours du vertige hanté,
Jalouse du néant l'insensibilité.
— Ah! ne jamais sortir des Nombres et des Êtres!

The Complaints of an Icarus
The lovers of prostitutes
Are happy, fresh and satiated,
As for me, my arms are broken
Having embraced the clouds.

It is thanks to the unequaled stars,
Which all blaze in the depths of the sky,
That my burned-up eyes see
Only the memories of suns.

In vain I have desired in the space
To find the end and the middle;
I do not know under what fiery eye
I feel my wings break;

And burned by the love of the beautiful,
I will not have the sublime honor
Of giving my name to the abyss
That will serve me as a tomb.

Les Plaintes d'un Icare
Les amants des prostituées
Sont heureux, dispos et repus;
Quant à moi, mes bras sont rompus
Pour avoir étreint des nuées.

C'est grâce aux astres nonpareils,
Qui tout au fond du ciel flamboient,
Que mes yeux consumés ne voient
Que des souvenirs de soleils.

En vain j'ai voulu de l'espace
Trouver la fin et le milieu;
Sous je ne sais quel oeil de feu
Je sens mon aile qui se casse;

Et brûlé par l'amour du beau,
Je n'aurai pas l'honneur sublime
De donner mon nom à l'abîme
Qui me servira de tombeau.
---

I mourned his loss over cough syrup and humiliation. Now devoid of most of my hearing and more or less all of my hindsight. To M. I said I was sorry and that I felt the crippling feeling of injustice over his departure. Lies, lies. I rejoice in his fall, ha ha. They say that hell hath no fury and by gods, they are right.