|
LE BALCON
Published in the U.K. Vanity Fair London, England 21 April 1909 (page 489)
Translated by Aleister Crowley
Mother of memories, and queen of queens Thou, all my happiness! Thou, all my duty! Remember the dear hearth, the twilight screens, Thy beauty, and our passion, and thy beauty! Mother of memories, and queen of queens.
Those evenings in the firelight velvet-lined Or on the balcony, veiled by rosy wings Of mist. Thy breast was soft, thy kiss was kind. We often said imperishable things Those evenings in the firelight velvet-lines.
On summer evenings how the sun is fine! How space seems deep! How roars the heart’s red flood! I lean toward thee, adoring, queen of mine, And thought I breathed the perfume of thy blood— On summer evenings how the sun is fine!
The night fell thick and thick, a screen of sable; Mine eyes within the blackness guessed at thine, I drank thy sighs—oh poison comfortable! Thy feet slept in these brother hands of mine: The night fell thick and thick, a screen of sable.
I have the art to evoke delicious hours And live my past again between thy knees; Why should I seek thy beauty’s langorous dowers Save in thy body’s passion, thine heart’s ease? I have the art to evoke delicious hours.
These vows, these scents, these kisses infinite Shall be reborn from gulfs we may not sound, So scale the sky, young suns, in choral flight, Winged from their lustral lapse in seas profound! O vows! O scents! O kisses infinite!
Translated by Aleister Crowley. |