Luminous Decay
justinehrlich

Justin Ehrlich was born in Essex in 1985 and has a degree in Philosophy. He writes poetry and short fiction dealing with themes of death, insanity and the supernatural.

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2012 (29)
2011 (88)

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9 Jun 2011
June 9th, 5:35am 0 comments

Charles Baudelaire 1821 - 1867

Vampire

Thou who, like death’s deceiving stroke, 
Knocks at my heart’s deep melancholy; 
Thou who, like a troupe of hideous folk
Of demons, wines and maddened Folly, 

 

Of mine own my Spirit humiliated
Makes thine own bed and thy domain, 
Infamous, by whom I am vitiated
Like the convict fastened to his chain. 

 

Like to the Gambler with his game reversed, 
Like to the drunkard with his wine-bottle, 
Like to the vermin that the carrion throttle, 
- Be thou for ever and ever accursed! 

 

I have said to the sword perfidious 
To lavish on me Liberty, 
I have said to the poison insidious 
To shake me from my lethargy. 

 

Alas! The poison and the sword that crave thee 
Said in disdainful knavery: 
“Thou are not worthy that we should save thee 
From thine accursed slavery. 

 

Fool! From his empire base and bloody, 
If we deliver thee by our hate, 
Thy kisses shall resuscitate 
Thy Vampire and his buried Body!”

Translated by Arthur Symons

Munch_vampire
Edvard Munch 1863 - 1944 - Vampire

Filed under Arthur Symons Charles Baudelaire Edvard Munch Poetry Translation Vampire

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8 Jun 2011
June 8th, 9:18am 0 comments

Arthur Symons 1865 - 1945

Stella Maris

Why is it I remember yet
You, of all women one has met,
In random wayfare, as one meets
The chance romances of the streets,
The Juliet of a night? I know
Your heart holds many a Romeo.
And I, who call to mind your face
In so serene a pausing-place,
Where the bright pure expanse of sea,
Seems a reproach to you and me,
I too have sought on many a breast
The ecstasy of an unrest,
I too have had my dreams, and met
(Ah me!) how many a Juliet.
Why is it, then, that I recall
You, neither first nor last of all?
For, surely as I see to-night
The phantom of the lighthouse light,
Against the sky, across the bay,
Fade, and return, and fade away,
So surely do I see your eyes
Out of the empty night arise;
Child, you arise and smile to me
Out of the night, out of the sea,
The Nereid of a moment there,
And is it seaweed in your hair?
 
O lost and wrecked, how long ago,
Out of the drowning past, I know
You come to call me, come to claim
My share of your delicious shame.
Child, I remember, and can tell
One night we loved each other well,
And one night's love, at least or most,
Is not so small a thing to boast.
You were adorable, and I
Adore you to infinity,
That nuptial night too briefly borne
To the oblivion of morn.
Ah! no oblivion, for I feel
Your lips deliriously steal
Along my neck, and fasten there;
I feel the perfume of your hair,
I feel your breast that heaves and dips
Desiring my desirous lips,
And that ineffable delight
When souls turn bodies, and unite
In the intolerable, the whole
Rapture of the embodied soul.
 
That joy was ours, we passed it by;
You have forgotten me, and I
Remember you thus strangely, won
An instant from oblivion.
And I, remembering, would declare
That joy, not shame, is ours to share,
Joy that we had the frank delight
To choose the chances of one night,
Out of vague nights, and days at strife,
So infinitely full of life.
What shall it profit me to know
Your heart holds many a Romeo?
Why should I grieve, though I forget
How many another Juliet?
Let us be glad to have forgot
That roses fade, and loves are not,
As dreams, immortal, though they seem
Almost as real as a dream.
It is for this I see you rise,
A wraith, with starlight in your eyes,
Where calm hours weave, for such a mood
Solitude out of solitude;
For this, for this, you come to me
Out of the night, out of the sea.
La-buveuse-d_absinthe-rops
Felicien Rops - La Buveuse d Absinthe

Filed under Arthur Symons Felicien Rops La Buveuse d Absinthe Poetry Stella Maris

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4 Jun 2011
June 4th, 4:06am 0 comments

Arthur Symons 1865 - 1945

The Temptation of Saint Anthony

 

The Cross, the Cross is tainted! O most just,

Be merciful, and save me from this snare.

The tempter lures me as I bend in prayer

Before the sacred symbol of our trust.

Yeah, the most holy of holies feeds my lust,

The body of thy Christ; for, unaware,

Even as I kneel and pray, lo, she is there,

The temptress, she the wanton; and she hath thrust

Thy bruiséd body off, and all her own,

Shameless, she stretches on the cross, arms wide,

Limbs pendent, in libidinous mockery.

She draws mine eyes to her—Ah, sin unknown!

She smiles, she triumphs; but the Crucified

Falls off into darkness with a cry.

437px-felicien_rops_-_la_tentation_de_saint_antoine
The Temptation of Saint Anthony - Felicien Rops - 1833 - 1898

Filed under Arthur Symons Felicien Rops Poetry The Temptation of Saint Anthony

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28 May 2011
May 28th, 5:52am 0 comments

Arthur Symons 1865 - 1945

The Opium Smoker
I am engulfed, and drown deliciously
Soft music like a perfume, and sweet light
Golden with audible odours exquisite
Swathe me with cerements for eternity
Time is no more, I pause and yet I flee
A million ages wrap me round with night.
I drain a million ages of delight
I hold the future in my memory.

Fitzgerald3
John Anster Fitzgerald  1819? - 1906

Filed under Arthur Symons John Anster Fitzgerald Poetry The Opium Smoker

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