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Sed Non Satiata
By Charles Baudelaire
Singular goddess, brown as night, and wild,
Perfumed of fine tobacco smoke and musk,
Work of some Faust, some wizard of the dusk,
Ebony sorceress, black midnight's child,
Rare wines or opium are less a prize
Than your moist lips where love struts its pavane;
When my lusts move towards you in caravan
My ennuis drink from cisterns of your eyes.
From these black orbits where the soul breathes through,
O heartless demon! pour a drink less hot;
I'm not the Styx, nine times embracing you,
Alas! and my Megaera, I can not,
To break your nerve and bring you to your knees,
In your bed's hell become Persephone!
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