Lethe

A translation of Baudelaire’s Le Léthé

Photo by Fran Taylor on Unsplash

Come to my heart, cruel and deaf soul,

Adored tiger, lazy monster,

I want to plunge my trembling fingers

For a long time

Into the thickness of your heavy mane.

In your petticoat filled with your perfume,

Bury my painful head

And breathe, like a withered flower,

The sweet smell of my late love.

I want to sleep! Sleep rather than live!

In sleep also sweet as death

I will spread out my kisses without remorse

On your beautiful body polished like copper.

To swallow my soothed sobs

Nothing suits me better than the abyss of your bed.

Powerful oblivion lives in your mouth,

And Lethe flows in your kisses.

My destiny, from now on my delight,

I will obey as if predestined;

Docile martyr, condemned innocent,

Whose fervor fans the flames of torture,

To drown my resentment I will suck

Nepenthe and hemlock