Café du Néant

Little tapers leaning lighted diagonally Stuck in coffin tables of the Café du Néant Leaning to the breath of baited bodies Like young poplars fringing the Loire Eyes that are full of love And eyes that are full of kohl Projecting light across the fulsome ambiente Trailing the rest of the animal behind them Telling of tales without words And lies of no consequence One way or another The young lovers hermetically buttoned up in black To black cravat To the blue powder edge dusting the yellow throat What color could have been your bodies When last you put them away Nostalgic youth Holding your mistress's pricked finger In the indifferent flame of the taper Synthetic symbol of LIFE In this factitious chamber of DEATH The woman As usual Is smiling as bravely As it is given to her to be brave While the brandy cherries In winking glasses Are decomposing Harmoniously With the flesh of spectators And at a given spot There is one Who Having the concentric lighting focussed precisely upon her Prophetically blossoms in perfect putrefaction Yet there are cabs outside the door.