DESPAIR

I like to watch the heavens
as clouds of black roll by,
and hear the north wind raging:
its terrifying roar.
I like to see the evening
sans moon and sans the stars,
and nothing but scintillas
to lend a little light.

I'm pleased by cemeteries
when packed to overflowing
and dripping blood and gore,
until it takes our breath.
Inside, there stands a digger,
his face all framed with gloom,
as with his ruthless hands
he crushes all the skulls.

I like to see the bombs
fall gently from the sky
and, as it would appear,
lie harmless on the ground ...
and then, in all their fury
to come to life, exploding
and belching lightning bolts,
with corpses everywhere.

May thunder waken me
with hoarse and brutal tread
and make the sleeping world
to shudder and awake.
May countless lightning crash
incessant on the world:
great pleasure's mine to see
the scuttling firmament.

I'd like to light the flame
to burn the city down:
to burn both far and near,
with rubble everywhere.
To see an old man roasting
and burning like a torch;
to hear his plangent pleading:
my pleasure and my joy!

I like the countryside
when blanketed with snow:
the fruit and flower and greens
all being exorcized.
And all the songbirds too,
and not a sign of sunlight,
but only shadow-shows
from all-pervading death.

And in the shady woods
a crumbling mansion stands:
what joy it gives to me
when it reflects the moon
and when the weathervanes
go harshly squealing round
they call to mind the scream
that tells us someone's dead.

I like it when they carry
poor mortals to Avernus
and there they make them suffer
for all the ill they've wrought
by opening their bowels
by tearing out their tendons
by breaking all their hearts
and paying heed to nought.

The unaccustomed freshet
that floods the fertile plain
and reaches mountain-heights
and horrifes us all:
it sweeps away the cattle
and vines without a pause:
such ruin it can cause,
and such delight for me.

The shouting and the laughter,
the gaming and the bottles:
on every side the beauties
that laugh to drink them down
and plant upon the lips
a kiss with every drink:
voluptuous flattery
from every bawdy mouth.

And then to break the glass,
cups, saucers, plates and cards,
and then with razor bared
seek out the nearest heart.
And then to hear the toasting
all mixed up with the moaning
and shrieking of the wounded:
confusion, and the grief.

I'd like to see the man
go dragging his intestine,
while, dying in a corner,
another pleads for wine,
as those already drunk
in unaccustomed phrase
sing out a shameless song
to holy God on high.

All while the mistresses
recline upon their couches
their breasts all bare of ouches
and not a belt in sight:
they show off all their charms,
their hair in disarray,
their lovely thighs exposed ...
What pleasure! What a sight!