My spirit, amongst books, I squandered so
Too late, my knock, upon her brothel door
& for that Salome's veils the Word baptize
Death drowns in my Jordan eyes.
The Trojan War as a allegory of mystic Love.
Too late, my knock, upon her brothel door
& for that Salome's veils the Word baptize
Death drowns in my Jordan eyes.
The Trojan War as a allegory of mystic Love.
Conscripts to what her Creed demands, for War is a glorious game
Unflinching we, as Love commands, at our own hearts take aim
Which, beating but in Beauty's breast, our Achillean Arts defame
Till our pitiless necrophilias attest Penthesilea's nuptial claim
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