L'Hautontimoroumnos

L'Héautontimorouménos

"I shall strike you without anger

And without hate, like a butcher,

As Moses struck the rock!

And from your eyelids I shall make

The waters of suffering gush forth

To inundate my Sahara.

My desire swollen with hope

Will float upon your salty tears

Like a vessel which puts to sea,

And in my heart that they'll make drunk

Your beloved sobs will resound

Like a drum beating the charge!

Am I not a discord

In the heavenly symphony,

Thanks to voracious Irony

Who shakes me and who bites me?

She's in my voice, the termagant!

All my blood is her black poison!

I am the sinister mirror

In which the vixen looks.

I am the wound and the dagger!

I am the blow and the cheek!

I am the members and the wheel,

Victim and executioner!

I'm the vampire of my own heart

— One of those utter derelicts

Condemned to eternal laughter,

But who can no longer smile!"

Charles Baudelaire, "Fleurs du Mal", 1868

“What’s going on, Murph?”

George Melies

I always find beauty in things that are odd and imperfect – they are much more interesting.

— Marc Jacobs

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