Phantasma, Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Collar of ClawsPeriod 19th century

I dreamed the fragrant, mountainous archipelago,
Lost in an unknown and deep sea
Where the shipwreck cast us both ashore,
Forgotten, far from the laws that govern the world.

On the sand, stretched out in the gold of your hair,
Hair that makes you like a blond tomb,
I revive you with the new sound of my confessions
That neither the beach nor the wave will repeat.

It is a dream. Your soul is a bird fleeing
Toward the clear horizons of rubies, of emeralds,
And my stricken soul is a bird of night.

To subdue you, exquisite prey, to my weariness
And to tame you, white one, in my warm embraces,
All countries are too inhabited today.

Charles Cros

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