Femmes damnées

Feelings come and go and while I find myself still completely in love with him I still get these odd moments of sadness when I think to the future. The months have whipped by since we first touched and those remaining will be gone just as quickly. We will both be in the heat, but we will be apart and I don't know how I will handle this. I try to convince myself that it won't matter but at the same time I know that I am no good at fooling myself.

Damned Women
Like pensive cattle lying on the sand,
They turn their eyes toward the horizon of the seas,
And their feet seeking each other and their clasped hands
Feel sweet languor and bitter shudders.

Some, hearts besotted with long confidences,
In the depths of the groves where streams gossip,
Go spelling out the love of timid childhood
And carving the green wood of the young trees;

Others, like sisters, walk slow and solemnly
Through rocks full of apparitions,
Where saint Anthony has seen springing like lava
The naked, crimson breasts of his temptations;

There are those, in the lights of the crumbling resin,
Who in the silent hollow of the old pagan dens
Call you to the relief of their howling fevers,
Oh Bacchus, allay the ancient remorse!

And others, whose throat loves the scapular,
Who, concealing a whip under their long robes,
Mix, in the somber wood and the solitary nights,
The froth of pleasure with the tears of torment.

Oh virgins, demons, monsters, martyrs,
Great spirits, contemptuous of reality,
Seekers of infinity, devotees and satyrs,
Sometimes full of cries, sometimes full of tears,

You who my soul has chased into your hell,
Poor sisters, I love you as much as I pity you,
For your gloomy sorrows, your insatiable thirsts,
And the urns of love of which your great hearts are full.

Femmes damnées
Comme un bétail pensif sur le sable couchées,
Elles tournent leurs yeux vers l'horizon des mers,
Et leurs pieds se cherchent et leurs mains rapprochées
Ont de douces langueurs et des frissons amers.

Les unes, coeurs épris des longues confidences,
Dans le fond des bosquets où jasent les ruisseaux,
Vont épelant l'amour des craintives enfances
Et creusent le bois vert des jeunes arbrisseaux;

D'autres, comme des soeurs, marchent lentes et graves
À travers les rochers pleins d'apparitions,
Où saint Antoine a vu surgir comme des laves
Les seins nus et pourprés de ses tentations;

II en est, aux lueurs des résines croulantes,
Qui dans le creux muet des vieux antres païens
T'appellent au secours de leurs fièvres hurlantes,
Ô Bacchus, endormeur des remords anciens!

Et d'autres, dont la gorge aime les scapulaires,
Qui, recélant un fouet sous leurs longs vêtements,
Mêlent, dans le bois sombre et les nuits solitaires,
L'écume du plaisir aux larmes des tourments.

Ô vierges, ô démons, ô monstres, ô martyres,
De la réalité grands esprits contempteurs,
Chercheuses d'infini dévotes et satyres,
Tantôt pleines de cris, tantôt pleines de pleurs,

Vous que dans votre enfer mon âme a poursuivies,
Pauvres soeurs, je vous aime autant que je vous plains,
Pour vos mornes douleurs, vos soifs inassouvies,
Et les urnes d'amour dont vos grands coeurs sont pleins.
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And I will forever love him, and the south, and my own life plein de possibilité. In our day it was not so, no. We have everything we ever wanted and more. Why these feelings?