Everything had…
The far sound of cities, in the evening,
In sunlight, and always.
Everything known…
O Tumult! O Visions! These are the stops of life.
Departure in affection, and shining sounds.
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Perhaps an Evening awaits me
and die the happier: since I am patient!If my pain submits, if I ever have any gold,shall I choose the North or the Country of Vines? …– Oh! It is shameful to dream – since it is pure loss!And if I become once more the old traveler,never can the green inn be open to me…
I
Where there quivers a topaz sea,Will function in your evening lightThe Lilies, those clysters of ecstasy!In our own age of sago, as they must,Since all the Plants are workers first,The Lilies will drink a blue disgust,From your religious Prose, not verse!– The Lily of Monsieur de KerdrelThe sonnet of eighteen thirty, the plant,That Lily, they…
Dark with knobbed growths,
their eyes ringed with green,their swollen fingers clenched on their thigh-bones,their skulls caked with indeterminate crustslike the leprous growths on old walls;in amorous seizures they have graftedtheir weird bone structuresto the great dark skeletons of their chairs;their feet are entwined, morning and evening,on the rickety rails!These old men have always been one flesh with their…
The pigeons which flutter in the meadow,
the water animals, the animal enslaved,the last butterflies!.. also are thirsty.But to dissolve where that wandering cloud is dissolving –Oh! Favoured by what is fresh!To expire in those damp violetswhose awakening fills these woods?
In the brown dining-room,
with the scent of polish and fruit,I was shoveling up at my easea plateful of some Belgian dishor other, and sprawling in my enormous chair.While I ate, I listened, happy and silent, to the clock.The kitchen door opened with a gust,and the servant girl came in,I don’t know what for,neckerchief loose, hair dressed impishly.And, passing…
This man, pale, walks the flowering lawns,
The pale man thinks about the TuileriesIn flower…and at times his dead eye flames.His twenty years of orgy have made him drink!He told himself: ‘I will extinguishLiberty As I put out a candle– softly, politely…’Liberty lives again! He feels worn out.They’ve caught him. Now what name tremblesOn his silent lips? What quick regret?No one will…