Thought I would share this beautiful poem I found?

Hope you like it as well


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These nymphs that I would perpetuate:


so clear


And light, their carnation, that it floats in the air


Heavy with leafy slumbers.


Did I love a dream?


My doubt, night's ancient hoard, pursues its theme


In branching labyrinths, which being still


The veritable woods themselves, alas, reveal


My triumph as the ideal fault of roses.


Consider...


if the women of your glosses


Are phantoms of your fabulous desires!


Faun, the illusion flees from the cold, blue eyes


Of the chaster nymph like a fountain gushing tears:


But the other, all in sighs, you say, compares


To a hot wind through the fleece that blows at noon?


No! through the motionless and weary swoon


Of stifling heat that suffocates the morning,


Save from my flute, no waters murmuring


In harmony flow out into the groves;


And the only wind on the horizon no ripple moves,


Exhaled from my twin pipes and swift to drain


The melody in arid drifts of rain,


Is the visible, serene and fictive air


Of inspiration rising as if in prayer.


Relate, Sicilian shores, whose tranquil fens


My vanity disturbs as do the suns,


Silent beneath the brilliant flowers of flame:


"That cutting hollow reeds my art would tame,


I saw far off, against the glaucous gold


Of foliage twined to where the springs run cold,


An animal whiteness languorously swaying;


To the slow prelude that the pipes were playing,


This flight of swans -- no! naiads -- rose in a shower


Of spray..."


Day burns inert in the tawny hour


And excess of hymen is escaped away --


Without a sign, from one who pined for the primal A:


And so, beneath a flood of antique light,


As innocent as are the lilies white,


To my first ardours I wake alone.


Besides sweet nothings by their lips made known,


Kisses that only mark their perfidy,


My chest reveals an unsolved mystery...


The toothmarks of some strange, majestic creature:


Enough! Arcana such as these disclose their nature


Only through vast twin reeds played to the skies,


That, turning to music all that clouds the eyes,


Dream, in a long solo, that we amused


The beauty all around us by confused


Equations with our credulous melody;


And dream that the song can make love soar so high


That, purged of all ordinary fantasies


Of back or breast -- incessant shapes that rise


In blindness -- it distills sonorities


From every empty and monotonous line.


Then, instrument of flights, Syrinx malign,


At lakes where you attend me, bloom once more!


Long shall my discourse from the echoing shore


Depict those goddesses: by masquerades,


I'll strip the veils that sanctify their shades;


And when I've sucked the brightness out of grapes,


To quell the flood of sorrow that escapes,


I'll lift the empty cluster to the sky,


Avidly drunk till evening has drawn nigh,


And blow in laughter through the luminous skins.


Let us inflate our MEMORIES, O nymphs.


"Piercing the reeds, my darting eyes transfix,


Plunged in the cooling waves, immortal necks,


And cries of fury echo through the air;


Splendid cascades of tresses disappear


In shimmering jewels. Pursuing them, I find


There, at my feet, two sleepers intertwined,


Bruised in the languor of duality,


Their arms about each other heedlessly.


I bear them, still entangled, to a height


Where frivolous shadow never mocks the light


And dying roses yield the sun their scent,


That with the day our passions might be spent."


I adore you, wrath of virgins--fierce delight


Of the sacred burden's writhing naked flight


From the fiery lightning of my lips that flash


With the secret terror of the thirsting flesh:


From the cruel one's feet to the heart of the shy,


Whom innocence abandons suddenly,


Watered in frenzied or less woeful tears.


"Gay with the conquest of those traitorous fears,


I sinned when I divided the dishevelled


Tuft of kisses that the gods had ravelled.


For hardly had I hidden an ardent moan


Deep in the joyous recesses of one


(Holding by a finger, that her swanlike pallor


From her sister's passion might be tinged with colour,


The little one, unblushingly demure),


When from my arms, loosened by death obscure,


This prey, ungrateful to the end, breaks free,


Spurning the sobs that still transported me."


Others will lead me on to happiness,


Their tresses knotted round my horns, I guess.


You know, my passion, that crimson with ripe seeds,


Pomegranates burst in a murmur of bees,


And that our blood, seized by each passing form,


Flows toward desire's everlasting swarm.


In the time when the forest turns ashen and gold


And the summer's demise in the leaves is extolled,


Etna! when Venus visits her retreat,


Treading your lava with innocent feet,


Though a sad sleep thunders and the flame burns cold.


I hold the queen!


Sure punishment...


No, but the soul,


Weighed down by the body, wordless, struck dumb,


To noon's proud silence must at last succumb:


And so, let me sleep, oblivious of sin,


Stretched out on the thirsty sand, drinking in


The bountiful rays of the wine-growing star!


Couple, farewell; I'll see the shade that now you are.

Thought I would share this beautiful poem I found?
Sensually rich... I love it.
Reply:that was absolutely gorgeous.


the poet's imagery is amazing.


thank you :)


i am totally printing this out
Reply:Very lovely. I enjoy fantasy literature.
Reply:Thank you, it's quite beautiful.
Reply:good lord sorry but i don't get it
Reply:thts long. but good :]



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