By Paul Verlaine
Translated by Walter Wykes
Lovely harlot
With your hard black eyes
And your soft budding breasts
Shameless flower of the damned
Your aroma overwhelms my senses
I am driven to possess you
But you scarcely feel my flesh
I make no impression
Bland on your bewitching tongue, I have no taste
You exhale my desire like smoke
Incense sacrificed to your unyielding beauty
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Monday was mostly a chore day around here, though some of them were fun. We went out to pick up Blazing Bagels and a couple of outdoor pillows at World Market, which means we also got to look at the fall and Halloween decorations. It drizzled a little while we were out, but had stopped by the time we finished lunch, and after the laundry was done, we went for a walk and saw a couple of herons, osprey, and red-winged blackbirds.
We got a jar of the delicious tomato and basil soup at World Market, which we had for dinner with grilled cheese, then we watched the delightful end of the Mariners-Rays game (much better than the unfortunate Nats-Yankees game). Now we're watching Ridley, which is well-written, well-acted, and depressing -- reminds me of later Endeavour and Wallander. Here are some of the dahlias at the Bellevue Botanical Garden from yesterday:
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