Bright star ! Would I be as beautiful as you are —
Not throwing on the world the ghostly sight of a whore
And sighing, with my lips wet and sunny
Like night’s inhabitant, a ghastly beach flea
The moving skies at their insensitive task
Have poured on me the drops of your heated conscience
Oh beautiful people, clad in humanity’s heinous mask
Bright star ! If I could have a bit of your radiance
Not sleep upon the violent breast of a lover
To feel for ever the snow of love and hope
Awake for ever in the hear of a sweet fever
Having rendez-vous with the empty-feeling death
And so live as a whore – or else stop to breath