That’s all that matters
Pascal had his abyss, it followed him
Pensive as cattle resting on the beach
Proud of her height as if she were alive
Remember, my soul, the thing we saw
Some scents can permeate all substances
Soon cold shadows will close over us
Souvenirs?
Stupidity, delusion, selfishness and lust
Sudden as a knive you thrust
Sullen, lazy beast! creep close
Suppose my name were favored by the winds
Surely some night will be dark enough
Swarming city – city gorged with dreams
The child enthralled by lithographs and maps
The clock ironically summons us
The Devil it must have been
The isle is fragrant and the sun is kind
The little, shriveled old woman felt quite overjoyed
The moon, who is caprice itself
The morning wind rattles the windowpanes
The pillars of Nature’s Temple are alive
The prophet-tribe with burning eyes set out
The soul of the wine sang by night in its bottles
The sun is all very well when it rises – then
The sun is in mourning. Be like the sun
The tide of curses day by day ascends
The time will come when your dark loveliness
The traffic roared around me, deafening!
The unexampled ogle of a whore
The woman, meanwhile, writhing like a snake
There is a majestic country, a Land of Cockaigne
There was a time when all refectory walls
These warm fall nights I breathe, eyes closed, the scent
They pass before me, those electric eyes
They sit in shabby armchairs, ancient whores
This is the place – the holy hut
To Love in all her loveliness
To make my eclogues proper, I must sleep
Today the air is splendid!
Tonight the moon dreams still more languidly
Two warriors have engaged in combat: swords
Uncanny apparition – all it wears
Under black yews that protect them
Urn of stilled sorrows, I worship you
Waning autumn, winter, mudbound spring
We shall have richly scented beds
What an admirable day! The vast park abandons itself
What does it matter to me that you are wise?
What else consoles? It is the remedy
What will you say tonight, forsaken soul
When by an edict of the sovereign powers
When Don Juan went down to that last river
When skies are low and heavy as a lid
When the sky appears in pain
Wherever he goes – on land or out to sea
Wherever the soil is rich and full of snails
Who can destroy this old, this long Remorse
Wine can endow the lowest dive
Worshipped once, discreetly, by our sires
You tilt your head and smile – as if
You used to be jealous of our old nurse
You’d sleep with any one at all, you slut!
You’re like some rock the sea is swallowing
Your eyes are tired, poor lover – close them, then
Your feet are agile as your hands; your hips
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