Night is a cup of evil. A piercing whistle
of the guard crosses it, like a vibrating pin.
Listen, you, whore, how is it that if you’re gone,
the wave is still black and still makes me burn?
Earth has the sides of a coffin in the shadow.
Hey, you, whore, don’t come back.
The flesh swims, swims
in the cup of shadows that still wounds me;
my flesh swims in it,
like in the marshy heart of a woman.
Astral ember... I’ve felt
dry touches of clay
falling on my translucent lotus.
Oh, woman! It’s for you
that the flesh of instinct exists. Oh woman!
That’s why, oh, black chalice! even when you left,
I choke on the dust;
and the desire to drink beats within my chest!
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.| Original: |
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1927. The author died in 1938, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 80 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. |
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