Obsession
Obsession
Great woods, your winds oppress me like the heft
Of great cathedral organs and our hearts,
Shaken with dying groans, are echo chambers,
Vaults where your De profundis still vibrates.
I hate you, Ocean! All your bounding tumults
I find within: the bitter laughter of
A man defeated, all his sobs and insults,
I hear resounding in the sea's vast laugh.
How you would please me, Night, without those stars
Whose light speaks in a language that I know!
I only seek what's empty, black and bare.
But darkness is itself a canvas where
My eyes project a thousand vanished souls
Who look at me with a familiar air.
Writer/s: Charles Baudelaire, Susanna Wallumrød
