Eros and the Skull

Insolent Eros,

      seated on the skull

     of Humanity

     as if on a throne,

gaily blows bubbles

     they rise, one after

     another, as if

     to rejoin the worlds

in the stratosphere.

     Frail and luminous

     each globe as it mounts

     explodes, spattering

its tenuous soul

     like a golden dream

     I hear the skull moan

     as each one shatters:

'When will this callous,

     ridiculous game

     of yours be over?

     What your cruel breath

scatters into air,

     Monster Murderer,

     is my very flesh

     and blood - gray matters!'

Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal