XIV
Though I adorn my thought with angel tresses
Or pluck its pallium from the demon-kings,
My spirit rests at ease in your caresses,
And cares not for the song, so that it sings.
Life is but one caress, one song of gladness,
One infinite pulse of love in tune with you;
One infinite pulse, upsoaring into madness,
Down sinking to content. O far and few
The stars that follow our lofty pilgrimage
Into the abyss of silence and delight
Beyond the glamour of the world, the age,
The illusions of the light and of the night.
Wherefore accept these meteor flames that dance
Pale coruscations to our brilliance!
Or pluck its pallium from the demon-kings,
My spirit rests at ease in your caresses,
And cares not for the song, so that it sings.
Life is but one caress, one song of gladness,
One infinite pulse of love in tune with you;
One infinite pulse, upsoaring into madness,
Down sinking to content. O far and few
The stars that follow our lofty pilgrimage
Into the abyss of silence and delight
Beyond the glamour of the world, the age,
The illusions of the light and of the night.
Wherefore accept these meteor flames that dance
Pale coruscations to our brilliance!
— 80 —
