Dark, wrinkled as a purple pink, <br />It breathes, it nestles in that bed of moss, <br />Still damp from love, which hugs the slope, <br />The white thighs' slope, to crater's heart. <br />Threads, gossamer, milky tears <br />Wept, wept, in scouring wind <br />That drove them on clots of scarlet scree <br />Till they tumbled on the edge, were gone. <br />My dreams touch kisses, kisses to the gate. <br />Soul envies couplings of the flesh, <br />Its tear-bottle this, its nest of sobs. <br />Ecstatic olive! Seductive flute! <br />Throat sucking almond-sweet sublime! <br />Moss-circled, female, promised land!<br /><br />Arthur Rimbaud<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/obscur-et-fronce/
