Menticulture Blog

What's your name?

O splendour of flesh ! O ideal splendour ! O renewal of love, triumphal dawn When, prostrating the Gods and the Heroes, White Callipyge and little Eros Covered with the snow of rose petals, will caress Women and flowers beneath their lovely outstretched feet ! - O great Ariadne who pour out your tears On the shore, as you see, out there on the waves, The sail of Theseus flying white under the sun, O sweet virgin child whom a night has broken, Be silent ! On his golden chariot studded with black grapes, Lysios, who has been drawn through Phrygian fields By lascivious tigers and russet panthers, Reddens the dark mosses along the blue rivers. - Zeus, the Bull, cradles on his neck like a child The nude body of Europa who throws her white arm Round the God's muscular neck which shivers in the wave. Slowly he turns his dreamy eye towards her ; She, droops her pale flowerlike cheek On the brow of Zeus ; her eyes are closed ; she is dying In a divine kiss, and the murmuring waters Strew the flowers of their golden foam on her hair. - Between the oleander and the gaudy lotus tree Slips amorously the great dreaming Swan Enfloding Leda in the whiteness of his wing ; - And while Cypris goes by, strangely beautiful, And, arching the marvellous curves of her back, Proudly displays the golden vision of her big breasts And snowy belly embroidered with black moss, - Hercules, Tamer of beasts, in his Strength, Robes his huge body with the lion's skin as with glory And faces the horizons, his brow terrible and sweet ! Vaguely lit by the summer moon, Erect, naked, dreaming in her pallor of gold Streaked by the heavy wave of her long blue hair, In the shadowy glade whenre stars spring in the moss, The Dryade gazes up at the silent sky... - White Selene, timidly, lets her veil float, Over the feet of beautiful Endymion, And throws him a kiss in a pale beam... - The Spring sobs far off in a long ectasy... Ii is the nymph who dreams with one elbow on her urn, Of the handsome white stripling her wave has pressed against. - A soft wind of love has passed in the night, And in the sacred woods, amid the standing hair of the greeat trees, Erect in majesty, the shadowly Marbles, The Gods, on whose brows the Bullfinch has his nest, - the Gods listen to Men, and to the infinite World !