Les plus lus ▸
Yone Noguchi
The thought of her presence (a bit of flesh and love)
Makes the dusk of night the dusk of perfume.
Sudden as a kiss her rings glow ;
Over the dusk strings her fingers flow as a wave.
O the breeze of melody of her heart and that of the night,
The ghost musical that dies into the pang of dream !
A whisper at twilight, a sigh through the night,
A strain of soft music, a perfume so light,
Will sweep as a feather the bulwark of years,
To surges of rapture, or rivers of tears.
Star of our dream,
Flower of our song;
Carry her tenderly,
Carry her on.
Light of our life,
Soul of our love;
On the wings of air,
Bear her above.
Undying light,
Unsetting star,
Flower of immortality,
Heart of our love.
With the breath of perfume,
Warm and rare,
Bear her joyously,
Bear her fair.
The perfume of your body dulls my sense.
I want nor wine nor weed; your breath alone
Suffices. In this moment rare and tense
I worship at your breast. The flower is blown,
The saffron petals tempt my amorous mouth,
The yellow heart is radiant now with dew
Soft-scented, redolent of my loved South;
O flower of love! I give myself to you.
Uncovered on your couch of figured green,
Here let us linger indivisible.
The portals of your sanctuary unseen
Receive my offering, yielding unto me.
Oh, with our love the night is warm and deep!
The air is sweet, my flower, and sweet the flute
Whose music lulls our burning brain to sleep,
While we lie loving, passionate and mute.
You are beautiful and faded
Like an old opera tune
Played upon a harpsichord;
Or like the sun-flooded silks
Of an eighteenth-century boudoir.
In your eyes
Smoulder the fallen roses of out-lived minutes,
And the perfume of your soul
Is vague and suffusing,
With the pungence of sealed spice-jars.
Your half-tones delight me,
And I grow mad with gazing
At your blent colours.
My vigour is a new-minted penny,
Which I cast at your feet.
Gather it up from the dust,