canary in the wicked art with which she resists the impatient ardors of
her companion; and the thousand travesties with which in the feminine
world a "yes" is concealed under a "no" are but pallid imitations of the
refined coquetry, the simulated flights, the amorous bitings and the
hundred thousand cajoleries of the world of animals.
As to the esthetic elements which nature has lavished upon the loves of
living beings, they are such and so many that the richest palette would
be insufficient to depict them or the poet's words to describe them.
Here are two pictures from my meager collection.
I
I am in the garden, lying down upon a wall so low that I can
voluptuously scent the soft aroma of the earth damped by a storm; I have
no rugs under my body or pillows under my head; a slate, furrowed and
shining, is my bed. With one hand extended above the wall, I am nipping
the petals of a lemon flower, while with the other I am frightening the
ants which hustle about in the sandy path. All at once, two little
shadows, two brown sprites, pass before my eyes and alight, facing me,
in the middle of the path. They are two children of heaven, all wings
and all beauty; the organs of terrestrial life are reduced to a thread,
but a thread that sucks the nectar from the flowers, and four gigantic
wings to conquer the skies. Their hours are numbered; they must love and
die, and nature made them warm and swift for intense love: organs of
sense greater than the venter, organs of beauty greater than the
entrails. They are butterflies, but I know not their names, and I feel
disappointed. I look around in vain for an entomologist to name them for
me: man does not feel that he possesses a creature unless he has
sprinkled it with the ink of his dictionaries. They will die, as far as
I am concerned, nameless; and in vain will they knock at the gates of
paradise, to enter the place where dear and beloved things are
remembered. Can you imagine ever having loved a woman whose name you
know not? As in religion, so it is in love: baptism is the first and
holiest of sacraments.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account