Sultanerie, Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Sandalwood CasketPeriod 19th century

To the Comte de Chousy

In your hair, brown flood that submerges the comb,
On your quivering breasts, shaded with amber, bathed
By the smell of dead seaweed on the pebbles at evening,
I want to let fall drop by drop the dizzying
essences and, cold folds, the Oriental
patiences, in golden flowers on black tulle.

Gutting the bales from the land of the plague,
I shall find there, embroidered, pearled treasure, the jacket
That poorly hides your bosom and lets your flanks
Shine bare. And on your fingers I shall slip rings
Where, beneath the sapphire, beneath the opal with vague gleams,
Old poisons with unknown effects lie sleeping.

In the opium of your arms, the hashish of your nape,
I want to sleep, despite the cries of the eunuch world
And the dagger that would nail us heart to heart.
May between your breasts, making a strange sliding,
Your woman’s blood with my man’s blood mingle,
Death will perpetuate the flash of conquering love!

Charles Cros

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