Tuesday, 15 November 2011

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More drowsy dreams the moon tonight. She rests Like a proud beauty on heaped cushions pressing, With light and absent-minded touch caressing, Before she sleeps, the contour of her breasts. On satin-shimmering, downy avalanches She dies from swoon to swoon in languid change, And lets her eyes on snowy visions range That in the moncler sale azure rise like flowering branches. When sometimes to this earth her languor calm Lets streak a stealthy tear, a pious poet, The enemy of sleep, in his cupped palm, Takes this pale tear, of liquid opal spun With rainbow lights, deep in his heart to stow it Far from the staring eyeballs of the Sun. — Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire

The Sadness of the Moon Tonight the moon, by languorous memories obsessed, Lies pensive and awake: a sleepless beauty amid The tossed and multitudinous cushions of her bed, Caressing with an abstracted hand the curve of her breast. Surrendered to her deep sadness as to a lover, for hours She lolls in the bright luxurious disarray of the sky — Haggard, entranced — and watches the small clouds float by Uncurling indolently in the blue air like flowers. When now and then upon this planet she lets fall, Out of her idleness and sorrow, a secret tear, Some poet — an enemy of slumber, musing apart — Catches in his cupped hands the unearthly tribute, all Fiery and iridescent like an opal’s sphere, And hides it from the sun for ever in his heart. — George Dillon, Flowers of Evil (NY: Harper and Brothers, 1936) Les Chats Les amoureux fervents et les savants austères Aiment également, dans leur m.re saison, Les chats puissants et doux, orgueil de la maison, Qui comme eux sont frileux et comme eux sédentaires.

Amis de la science et de la volupté Ils cherchent le silence et l’horreur des ténèbres; L’Erèbe les e.t pris pour ses coursiers funèbres, S’ils pouvaient au servage incliner leur fierté. Ils prennent en songeant les nobles attitudes Des grands sphinx allongés au fond des solitudes, Qui semblent s’endormir dans un rêve sans fin; Leurs reins féconds sont pleins d’étincelles magiques, Et des parcelles d’or, ainsi qu’un sable fin, Etoilent vaguement leurs prunelles mystiques. — Charles Baudelaire Cats Both ardent lovers and austere scholars Love in their mature years The strong and gentle cats, pride of the house, Who like them are sedentary and sensitive to cold. Friends of learning and sensual pleasure, They seek the silence and the horror of darkness; Erebus would have used them as his gloomy steeds: If their pride could let them stoop to bondage. north face outlet

When they dream, they assume the noble attitudes Of the mighty sphinxes stretched out in solitude, Who seem to fall into a sleep of endless dreams; Their fertile loins are full of magic sparks, And particles of gold, like fine grains of sand, Spangle dimly their mystic eyes. — William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954) Cats Sages austere and fervent lovers both, In their ripe season, cherish cats, the pride Of hearths, strong, mild, and to themselves allied In chilly stealth and sedentary sloth. Friends both to lust and learning, they frequent Silence, and love the horror darkness breeds. Erebus would have chosen them for steeds To hearses, could their pride to it have bent. Dreaming, the noble postures they assume Of sphinxes stretching out into the gloom That seems to swoon into an endless

Their fertile flanks are full of sparks that tingle, And particles of gold, like grains of shingle, Vaguely be-star their pupils as they glance. — Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952) Cats No one but indefatigable lovers and old Chilly philosophers can understand the true Charm of these animals serene and potent, who Likewise are sed doudoune moncler entary and suffer from the cold. They are the friends of learning and of sexual bliss; Silence they love, and darkness, where temptation breeds. Erebus would have made them his funereal steeds, Save that their proud free nature would not stoop to this. Like those great sphinxes lounging through eternity In noble attitudes upon the desert sand, They gaze incuriously at nothing, calm and wise.

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