La Chevelure

  O fleece, that foams down unto the shoulders bare!
  O curls, O scents which lovely languidness exhale!
  Delight! to fill this alcove's sombre atmosphere
  With memories, sleeping deep within this tress of hair,
  I'll wave it in the evening breezes like a veil!

  The shores of Africa, and Asia's burning skies,
  A world forgotten, distant, nearly dead and spent,
  Within thy depths, O aromatic forest! lies.
  And like to spirits floating unto melodies,
  Mine own, Belovèd! glides within thy sacred scent.

  There I will hasten, where the trees and humankind
  With languor lull beside the hot and silent sea;
  Strong tresses bear me, be to me the waves and wind!
  Within thy fragrance lies a dazzling dream confined
  Of sails and masts and flames—O lake of ebony!

  A loudly echoing harbour, where my soul may hold
  To quaff, the silver cup of colours, scents and sounds,
  Wherein the vessels glide upon a sea of gold,
  And stretch their mighty arms, the glory to enfold
  Of virgin skies, where never-ending heat abounds.

  I'll plunge my brow, enamoured with voluptuousness
  Within this darkling ocean of infinitude,
  Until my subtle spirit, which thy waves caress,
  Shall find you once again, O fertile weariness;
  Unending lullabye of perfumed lassitude!

  Ye tresses blue—recess of strange and sombre shades,
  Ye make the azure of the starry Realm immense;
  Upon the downy beeches, by your curls' cascades,
  Among your mingling fragrances, my spirit wades
  To cull the musk and cocoa-nut and lotus scents.

  Long—foraye—my hand, within thy heavy mane,
  Shall scatter rubies, pearls, sapphires eternally,
  And thus my soul's desire for thee shall never wane;
  For art not thou the oasis where I dream and drain
  With draughts profound, the golden wine of memory?