The Poetry Corner

The Poison

By Charles Baudelaire

Wine can clothe the most sordid hole in miraculous luxury, and let many a fabulous portico float free in the gold of its red glow, like a setting sun in the skys cloudy sea. Opium expands things without boundaries, extends the limitless, makes time profounder, deepens voluptuousness, fills the soul beyond its capacities, with the pleasures of gloom and of darkness. None of that equals the poison that flows from your eyes, your eyes of green, lakes where, mirrored, my trembling soul is seen my dreams come flocking, a host, to quench their thirst in the bitter stream. None of that equals the dreadful marvel though of your salivas venom, that plunges my soul, remorseless, into oblivion, and causing vertigo, rolls it swooning towards the shores of doom!