A poem for ghost
The Ghost
Just like an angel with evil eye,
I shall return to thee silently,
Upon thy bower I’ll alight,
With falling shadows of the night
With thee, my brownie, I’ll commune,
And give thee kisses cold as the moon,
And with a serpent’s moist embrace,
I’ll crawl around thy resting-place.
And when the livid morning falls,
Thou’lt find alone the empty walls,
And till the evening, cold ’twill be.
As others with their tenderness,
Upon thy life and youthfulness,
I’ll reign alone with dread o’er thee.
__Charlies Baudelaire
translated by Cyril Scott
