Les Deux Bonnes Soeurs

Ninety degrees in the shade, this April morning. The heat makes me remember everything I wanted to forget, but it still fills me with hope. The hormones make me tired and poisonous. I just want to get away and stay away and forget everything that ever happened here. But I cannot. Not while his things remind me that sometimes he is here. My skin is turning brown and the sun is getting higher and higher. This is exactly what I wanted.

The Two Good Sisters
Debauchery and Death are two lovable girls,
Lavish with kisses and riches of health,
Whose thighs, ever virgin and draped with rags
Under eternal labor have never given birth.

To the sinister poet, enemy of families,
Favorite of hell, poorly paid courtier,
Tombs and brothels manifest beneath their arbor
A bed which remorse has never frequented.

And the coffin and the alcove fertile in blasphemies
Offer us in their turn, like two good sisters,
Terrible pleasures and horrible sweets.

When do you wish to bury me, Debauchery with the filthy arms?
Oh Death, when will you come, her rival in attraction,
To graft your black cypress on her foul myrtle?

Les Deux Bonnes Soeurs
La Débauche et la Mort sont deux aimables filles,
Prodigues de baisers et riches de santé,
Dont le flanc toujours vierge et drapé de guenilles
Sous l'éternel labeur n'a jamais enfanté.

Au poète sinistre, ennemi des familles,
Favori de l'enfer, courtisan mal renté,
Tombeaux et lupanars montrent sous leurs charmilles
Un lit que le remords n'a jamais fréquenté.

Et la bière et l'alcôve en blasphèmes fécondes
Nous offrent tour à tour, comme deux bonnes soeurs,
De terribles plaisirs et d'affreuses douceurs.

Quand veux-tu m'enterrer, Débauche aux bras immondes?
Ô Mort, quand viendras-tu, sa rivale en attraits,
Sur ses myrtes infects enter tes noirs cyprès?
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After you get what you want you don't want it anymore. Fuck.