For days I couldn’t get the movie title “Revenant” off my mind. Then one morning I picked my old copy of Charles Baudelaire‘s Les Fleurs du Mal (1868) off the shelf, found by chance and translated
Looking like an angel to the wild eyed
I will enter your lair,
Gliding about you silently
With other shadows of the night.
To you my dark one
I’ll give kisses cold as the moon
And caresses of serpents
Slithering about a ditch.
And as morning’s greyish haze arrives
In the place where I did lie
That iron cold night,
You’ll find an empty space.
For as others may out of tenderness
Revere your vitality and your youth,
I would rule by fear.