.. † ..

You who, with the stroke of a sword
Has entered my plaintive heart,
You who, strong as a horde
Of demon women came apart
Humiliate my soul
To make your bed and domain
- I am bound to your squalid whole
Like a convict to a chain,
Like a gambler to his cards,
Like worms to a decaying corpse,
To your bottle I am a drunkard
- I wish you damned, forever cursed!
For your swift sword I often pray
To defeat my liberty,
And I've spoken the poison of betrayal
To feel less cowardly.
Alas! The poison and the blade,
Only say, with disdain, to me:
"You're not worthy to be lifted away
From your cursed slavery.
"Fool! If we could fate
Your delivery from her empire,
Your kisses would merely resucitate
The cadaver of your vampire."
.
.
Baudelaire
.
.
†..Like a convict to a chain, Like a gambler to his cards...