Though your wicked eyebrows call <br />Your nature into question <br />(Unangelic's their suggestion, <br />Witch whose eyes enthrall) <br /> <br />I adore you still <br />O foolish terrible emotion <br />Kneeling in devotion <br />As a priest to his idol will. <br /> <br />Your undone braids conceal <br />Desert, forest scents, <br />In your exotic countenance <br />Lie secrets unrevealed. <br /> <br />Over your flesh perfume drifts <br />Like incense 'round a censor, <br />Tantalizing dispenser <br />Of evening's ardent gifts. <br /> <br />No Philtres could compete <br />With your potent idleness: <br />You've mastered the caress <br />That raises dead me to their feet. <br /> <br />Your hips themselves are romanced <br />By your back and by your breasts: <br />By your languid dalliance. <br /> <br />Now and then, your appetite's <br />Uncontrolled, unassuaged: <br />Mysteriously enraged, <br />You kiss me and you bite. <br /> <br />Dark one, I am torn <br />By your savage ways, <br />Then, soft as the moon, your gaze <br />Sees my tortured heart reborn. <br /> <br />Beneath your satin shoe, <br />Beneath your charming silken foot. <br />My greatest joy I put <br />My genius and destiny, too. <br /> <br />You bring my spirit back, <br />Bringer of the light. <br />Exploding color in the night <br />Of my Siberia so black.<br /><br />Charles Baudelaire<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/afternoon-song/
