Morpheus

Amid my ponderous sloth

I could forget the very idea of express pleasure,

of these caresses that make angels

flap their wings high in the sky.

He is the handsome sleeper.

Hypnos wipes men off me.

What is this dull languor

that pierces through my heart?1

When I dream, it's about you.

In your arms I wish I could have felt loved,

In your arms I wish I could have cuddled.

And my loving eyes don't dare raise a lash

when you drift past me.

I wish I could have felt heavy in your arms,

In your arms I wish I could have cuddled.

I never found anything better than embraces

of far less loving arms.

And I have let myself fall

into Morpheus' arms,

thus letting my heart bask

in a fleeting contentment.

Luxury, peace and pleasure2

are only granted to me

at the cost of a deep, long sleep,

such a futile comfort in my all alike nights.

In your arms I wish I could have felt loved,

In your arms I wish I could have cuddled.

And my loving eyes don't dare raise a lash

when you drift past me.

I wish I could have felt heavy in your arms,

In your arms I wish I could have cuddled.

I never found anything better than embraces

of far less loving arms.

(x2)

1. a wink to two famous Verlaine poems: "Chanson d'automne (Les sanglots longs des violons de l'automne bercent mon cœur d'une langueur monotone - The long sobs of autmn violins soothe my heart with a dull languor) and "Il pleure dans mon coeur" (Quelle est cette langueur qui pénètre mon cœur - What is this languor that pierces through my heart?)
2. From Baudelaire's "L'invitation au voyage"