Insatiably, Poem by Emile Verhaeren

Poem by Emile Verhaeren Period 19th century

The evening, full of the disgusts of daily mirage,
With teeth, brutal, of madness and of fire,
I bite into myself my own heart and I outrage it
And sneer, if it twists its martyrdom toward God.

Over there, a sky burned with green apotheoses
Dominates a corner of sea — and flames of waves
Enter, as among open wounds,
Into reefs pierced with cries and sobs.

And my heart is mirrored in this evening of torture,
When the wave gnaws at itself and tears itself on the rocks
And rages against itself and its frame
Of gold and silver bursts and crumbles, blow by blow.

Joy, at last, comes to me from suffering by myself,
Because I will it, and I get drunk on the tears
That I shed, and my pride silences its blasphemy
And exalts itself, beneath the howls of my sorrows.

I harass my ills and my vices. I forget
The inextinguishable tedium of my derangement,
And when evening lifts its chalice of dregs,
I pour it for myself to drink, insatiably.

Emile Verhaeren

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-insatiably-emile-verhaeren/