THE ADVENT OF THE SUPERMAN
O Quiet is the wind yet something stirs
Between our world and heaven's starry skies
A spirit, shall I say, that knows a form
Beyond all that which beauty can describe;
A whole expanse of night pervades my sight
Disturbing naught that seeks of silent rest,
And yet withal I feel a wondrous thing
Upon the vision of unopen?d eyes
That now proclaims the portent of our fate:
The needs of life have made of us a span
And we shall from our ashes, phoenix-like,
Cry, "Hail the advent of the superman."
When I bestow beneficence upon man,
He distances himself from me.
When I heap calamities on his head,
He draws nigh.
Ode to Unchastity
Unchaste girls are not unchased,
But unchased girls are chaste;
The unchased have no time to waste,
For they've faced to their distaste
If they don't make haste to become unchaste,
They'll remain unchased and waste.
by Paul Verlaine translated by C.K. Garabed
Of autumn's strings
The languid sighs
My heart becries
In breathless gloom
Toward pending doom
And fondly gaze
On former days
And we are borne
By ill winds' scorn
Hither and brief
The withered leaf
A TRIBUTE TO MELODY
Let all my senses soon depart from me
Until I'm left with just that precious one
Can I survive without her voice to bear
In all its fulsomeness, tonality?
No, I would sooner part with sight and touch
Embracing all that I should wish to hear.