Classic Poem

When with eyes closed as in an opium dream
I breathe the odor of thy passionate breast,
I see in vision hell's infernal stream
And the sunset fires that have no instant's rest:
An idle island where the unnatural scheme
Of Nature is by savorous fruits oppressed,
And where men's bodies are their women's guest
And women's bodies are not what they seem.

Guided by thine odor towards the heat of veils,
I see a harbor filled with masts and sails,
Wearied by the sea wind that wearies me,

And in the perfume of the tamarind there clings
I know not what of marvelous luxury
Mixed in my soul with the song the mariner sings.