A Voyage to Cythera

My heart like a bird was fluttering joyously And soaring freely around the rigging; Beneath a cloudless sky the ship was rolling Like an angel drunken with the radiant sun. What is this black, gloomy island? — It's Cythera, They tell us, a country celebrated in song, The banal Eldorado of old bachelors. Look at it; after all, it is a wretched land. — Island of sweet secrets, of the heart's festivals! The beautiful shade of ancient Venus Hovers above your seas like a perfume And fills all minds with love and languidness. Fair isle of green myrtle filled with full-blown flowers Ever venerated by all nations, Where the sighs of hearts in adoration Roll like incense over a garden of roses Or like the eternal cooing of wood-pigeons! — Cythera was now no more than the barrenest land, A rocky desert disturbed by shrill cries. But I caught a glimpse of a singular object! It was not a temple in the shade of a grove Where the youthful priestess, amorous of flowers, Was walking, her body hot with hidden passion, Half-opening her robe to the passing breezes; But behold! as we passed, hugging the shore So that we disturbed the saa-birds with our white sails, We saw it was a gallows with three arms Outlined in black like a cypress against the sky. Ferocious birds perched on their feast were savagely Destroying the ripe corpse of a hanged man; Each plunged his filthy beak as though it were a tool Into every corner of that bloody putrescence; The eyes were two holes and from the gutted belly The heavy intestines hung down along his thighs And his torturers, gorged with hideous delights, Had completely castrated him with their sharp beaks. Below his feet a pack of jealous quadrupeds Prowled with upraised muzzles and circled round and round; One beast, larger than the others, moved in their midst Like a hangman surrounded by his aides. Cytherean, child of a sky so beautiful, You endured those insults in silence To expiate your infamous adorations And the sins which denied to you a grave. Ridiculous hanged man, your sufferings are mine! I felt at the sight of your dangling limbs The long, bitter river of my ancient sorrows Rise up once more like vomit to my teeth; Before you, poor devil of such dear memory I felt all the stabbing beaks of the crows And the jaws of the black panthers who loved so much In other days to tear my flesh to shreds. — The sky was charming and the sea was smooth; For me thenceforth all was black and bloody, Alas! and I had in that allegory Wrapped up my heart as in a heavy shroud. On your isle, O Venus! I found upright only A symbolic gallows from which hung my image... O! Lord! give me the strength and the courage To contemplate my body and soul without loathing!