I]
You stand away — to let your Jong lash curl
About this aching body, fiery rings
Of torture, o my hot enamoured girl
Whose passion rides me like a steed and stings.
Like to a wounded snake infuriated
With pain, you drive your reeking kisses home
Into my flesh, their poisonous frenzy mated
With this delirious anguish, bitter foam
Of storm on some innavigable sea.
Whip, whip me till I burn! Whip on! Whip on !
Is it not madness that you wake in me?
Is not this curse the devil’s orison?
Ah, devil! devil! when you grip me and glare
Into mine eyes, and answer all the prayer!
Il
A virgin with the lusts of Messaline,
A goat-soul in the body of a saint,
You writhe on me with cruel and epicene
Phrenzy and agony of acute restraint.
You ache — you burn — you dizzy me with blows —
You call me coward and eunuch, who say No.
Volcanic child ! upon your masking snows
I will not raise my rod, that forth may flow
Torrents of blazing lava, that shall hiss
And roar, and ruin all the glad green world.
I like the attack of your seducing kiss,
The lashes of your love about me curled,
Better than slack delight and murmuring sigh —
Flowers by the road to sad satiety.