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Download the free e-book (pdf) - Bruno Massé

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Black Black Black Aria, Aria, Aria, thrice thrice Spoken poken poken<br />

Last eve we bedded Woe<br />

Scarlet archlight on <strong>the</strong> walls<br />

- A faint, faint whisper<br />

Black, our venom<br />

Quoth She : " Graze me not "<br />

Whilst pale wrists She slit<br />

Quoth She : " Touch me yet<br />

'Til scratched veins bleed dry<br />

'Til my cup is fully drained<br />

And serpent tongues chant hoarse dismay... "<br />

BlackHeart, love me never<br />

Last morning, we huddled close<br />

Our dying mo<strong>the</strong>r 'midst rotting woods<br />

Ah, Her cold, cold caress<br />

- A kiss of sorrow<br />

Commiseration in mourning, we sought<br />

Black, our fate<br />

Quoth She : " Dawn hath died "<br />

Charmless sylphs sighed <strong>the</strong>ir song<br />

Quoth They : " Should such truth and beauty,<br />

From <strong>the</strong> Earth, pass utterly<br />

And cities' gleam reap forest green ? "<br />

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