Beside a monstrous Jewish whore I lay One night, we were two corpses side by side, And came to dream beside this hired bride Of beauty my desire had turned away.
When Juan sought the subterranean flood, And paid his obolus on the Stygian shore, Charon, the proud and sombre beggar, stood With one strong, vengeful hand on either oar. ...
I've not forgotten, near to the town, our white house, small but alone: its Pomona of plaster, its Venus of old hiding nude limbs in the meagre grove, and the sun, superb, at evening, streaming,...
I adore you, the nocturnal vault's likeness, o vast taciturnity, o vase of sadness: I love you, my beauty, the more you flee, grace of my nights, the more you seem, to multiply distances, ah ironically,...
The great-hearted servant of whom you were jealous, sleeping her sleep in the humble grass, shouldn't we take her a few flowers? The dead, the poor dead, have griefs like ours,...
That kind heart you were jealous of, my nurse Who sleeps her sleep beneath the humble turf, I'd like to give her flowers, wouldn't you? The dead, the poor dead, have their sorrows too,...
My sweetheart was naked, knowing my desire, she wore only her tinkling jewellery, whose splendour yields her the rich conquering fire of Moorish slave-girls in the days of their beauty. ...