Contemporary Belgian Poetry Part 9

EVIL LOVE.

I have yearned for the wicked child With her sensual mouth's red glow, And her restless eyes that show How sateless her soul is and wild.

The l.u.s.tful virgin, the child With her sick flesh fainting above The sweat of novels of love, By which her soul is defiled.

She sins in her sleep; and in Her evil smile there gleams, Implacable as her dreams, The l.u.s.t of perversion and sin.

I have dreamt of the virgin impure; The fire of her hair has profaned My chast.i.ty with its lure-- And my eyes with tears are stained.

THE OWL.

There is a haggard flitting through the night, And stupid wings are writhing through the wind, And then, afar, a screeching of dark fright, Like cries of a frail conscience that has sinned.

It is the shy owl of long moonless nights, It is the inconsolable owl who peers With blear eyes through drear darkness, and who blights The peace of sleep with stark foreboding fears.

The inconsolable night-bird weeping through The gloam, the spectral bird who fears the day, Whose panic flitting chills the dark, and who Fills s.p.a.ce with cries that quiver with dismay.

But thou, poor owl, an ivied steeple seest, Where thou canst hide from dawning's garish hour-- My heart, who from the kiss of woman fleest, Where shalt thou find the peace of some old tower?

OF SAD JOY.

I am angry with you, little girl, Because of your gracious smiles, And your restful lips, and teeth of pearl, And the black glitter of your great eyes.

I am angry with you, but on my knees, For when I went away, in happy wise, Far from you, far as goes the breeze, I could think of nothing but of your eyes.

I was timid, I never dared look back, And I went singing as madmen do, To forget your eyes, alack!

But my song was all about you.

SOME SONG OR OTHER.

The song of moonlight all That trembles as aspens shake, The thrush sang it at the evenfall To the listening swan on the blue lake.

It is all of love and distress, And of joy and of love, and then There are sobs of gold and weariness, And ever comes joy back again.

Far, far away flew the thrush, And the swan went pondering All the new words, by lily and rush, With his head underneath his wing.

OF AUTUMN.

While the moon through the heavens glides, With music enchanting our way, Come in the gladness to stray Of the gorgeous autumn-tides.

Now comes the wind, and lifts The gold of glad forests along; And many a mystical song Along the breeze with it drifts.

This life is most gracious and dear, Enchanting our way as we go With the laughter and golden glow Of autumns singing clear.

ON THE SEA.

Blow, blow, thou boisterous tempest, Blow, bitter winds and stark; The fisher, he cannot hear you, A-sailing in his dream-bark.

He sails to what pale daughters, To what horizons dim?

Rage, rage ye winds and climb ye waters, But we are waiting for him.

We are the lovelorn maidens, Alone in the wearisome dark; You winds and you waters that love us, Overturn him in his dream-bark.

IWAN GILKIN.

1858--.

PSYCHOLOGY.

A surgeon, I the souls of men dissect, Bending my feverish brow above their shameless Perversions, sins, and vices, all their nameless Primitive l.u.s.ts and appet.i.tes unchecked.

Upon my marble men and women spread Their open bellies, where I find the hidden Ulcers of pa.s.sions filthy and forbidden, And probe the secret wounds of dramas dread.

Then, while my arms with scrofulous blood are dyed, I note in poems clear with scrupulous art What my keen eyes in these dark deeps descried.

And if I need a subject, I am able To stretch myself on the dissecting table, And drive the scalpel into my own heart.

THE CAPITAL.

A dolorous fruit is the vast capital.

Its bursten skin and pulp too ripened dye Opulently their rich rottenness With green gold, violet, and red phosphorus.

Oozing a sickly sweet, thick, cancerous juice, Its spongy flesh melts in the mouth, and in Its pensive poisons germinate the rank, Perverted sins of fever-tortured brains.

So strange its spice, so exquisite its taste,-- A macerated ginger in a rare elixir,-- I plunged my teeth in it with greedy haste.