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The Pale Opal Wine
Feb. 1st, 2009 12:35 amApollo, mourning the demise of Hyacinth,
Would not cede victory to death.
His soul, adept of transformation,
Had to find a holy alchemy for beauty.
So from his celestial hand he exhausts and crushes
The subtlest gifts from divine Flora.
Their broken bodies sigh a golden exhalation
From which he harvest our first drop of - Absinthe!
In crouching cellars, in sparkling palaces,
Alone or together, drink that potion of loving!
For it is a sorcery, a conjuration,
This pale opal wine aborts misery.
Opens the intimate sanctuary of beauty
- Bewitches my heart, exalts my soul in ecstasy.
La légende de l'Absinthe by Aleister Crowley
Would not cede victory to death.
His soul, adept of transformation,
Had to find a holy alchemy for beauty.
So from his celestial hand he exhausts and crushes
The subtlest gifts from divine Flora.
Their broken bodies sigh a golden exhalation
From which he harvest our first drop of - Absinthe!
In crouching cellars, in sparkling palaces,
Alone or together, drink that potion of loving!
For it is a sorcery, a conjuration,
This pale opal wine aborts misery.
Opens the intimate sanctuary of beauty
- Bewitches my heart, exalts my soul in ecstasy.
La légende de l'Absinthe by Aleister Crowley
