They ask me— thy crystalline eyes, so acute,

They say to me, your eyes, clear as crystal:

"Odd lover why am I to thee so dear?"

"For you, bizarre lover, what is my merit then?"

Be sweet and keep silent, my heart, which is sear,

— Be charming and be still! My heart, which all things irk,

For all, save the rude and untutored brute,

Except the candor of the animals of old,

Is loth its infernal depths to reveal,

Does not wish to reveal its black secret to you,

And its dissolute motto engraven with fire,

Whose lulling hands invite me to long sleep,

Oh charmer! whose arms endless slumber inspire!

Nor its somber legend written with flame.

I abominate passion and wit makes me ill.

I hate passion; intelligence makes me suffer!

So let us love gently. Within his retreat,

Let us love each other sweetly. Tenebrous Love,

Foreboding, Love seeks for his arrows a prey,

Ambushed in his shelter, stretches his fatal bow.

I know all the arms of his battle array.

I know all the weapons of his old arsenal:

Delirium and loathing O pale Marguerite!

Crime, horror, and madness! — pale marguerite!

Like me, art thou not an autumnal ray,

Are you not, like me, an autumnal sun,

Alas my so white, my so cold Marguerite

O my Marguerite, so white and so cold?