Long after the days and the seasons, and the beings and the countries,
The pennant of bloody meat against the silk of arctic seas and flowers; (they don't exist.)
Recovered from old fanfares of heroism—which still attack our hearts and heads—far from the ancient assassins—
Oh! The pennant of bloody meat against the silk of arctic seas and flowers; (they don't exist)
Live coals raining down gusts of frost,—Sweetness!—those flashes in the rain of the wind of diamonds thrown down by the terrestrial heart eternally charred for us.—O world!—
(Far from the old refuges and the old fires that we can hear, can smell,)
The live coals and the foam. Music, wheeling of abysses and shock of ice floes against the stars.
O Sweetness, O world, O music! And there, shapes, sweat, tresses and eyes, floating. And the white, boiling tears,—O sweetness!—and the voice of woman reaching to the depths of the arctic volcanoes and caverns.
The pennant .....