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Lethe

from Wight by Wight

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    Layout by LXH
    Photography by Tona Hurst

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lyrics

"Le Léthé" - Charles Baudelaire

Come to my heart, cold, cruel concubine,
Beloved tiger, hydra indolent.
Long will I drag my hands incontinent
And quivering, through that heavy mane of thine;

Long will I hide my aching brows and head
Amid thy skirts so redolent of thee,
And breathe, a withered flower of memory,
The fading perfume of my passion dead.

For I shall sleep! Forget life's clarions
In slumber soft as Death's ambiguous shore,
I'll sleep, and sow my drowsy kisses o'er
Thy beauteous body polished bright as bronze.

To drown my sobbing soul in silence, -Oh!
Thy bed alone, vile paramour, avails;
Poppied oblivion from thy mouth exhales,
And through thy kisses floods of Lethe flow

So to my doom or rather my desire,
I shall submit as one predestinate;
And like a martyr calm, immaculate,
Whose fervor stirs the flames as they expire,

I'll drain, to drown my rancor and my smart,
Death's bitter hemlock and Nepenthe blest,
That sleep within the rosebuds of thy breast,
Thy lovely breast that ne'er contained a heart.

credits

from Wight, released February 17, 2023

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Wight image

Wight

a vengeful spectre, reborn to bleed the day.

A. Geist - instruments
LXH - voice

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