He felt his shoulder so bright before Quiver in the hideous cold of membraned

He felt his shoulder so bright before quiver in the

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He felt his shoulder, so bright before,Quiver in the hideous cold of membraned wing,And folding his arms with his head lifted high,This bandit, as if grown greater through affront,Alone in these depths that only ruin inhabits,Looked steadily at the shadow’s cave.The noiseless darkness grew in the nothingness.Obscure opacity closed off the gaping sky;And making beyond the last promontoryA triple crack in the black pane,The three suns mingled their three lights.You would have thought them three wheels of a chariot of fire,Broken after some battle in the high firmament.Like prows, the mountains from the mist emerged.“So,” cried Satan, “so be it! I can see!He shall have the blue sky, the black sky is mine.Does he think I will come weeping to his door?I hate him. Three suns suffice. What do I care?I hate the day, the blueness, fragrance and the light.”Suddenly he shivered; there remained only one.IV
The abyss was fading. Nothing kept its shape.Darkness seemed to swell its giant wave.Something nameless and submerged, somethingThat is no longer, takes its leave, falls silent;And no one could have said, in this deep horror,If this frightful remnant of a mystery or a world,Like the vague mist where the dream takes flight,Was called shipwreck or was called night;And the archangel felt himself become a phantom.He shouted: “Hell!” This word later made Sodom.5And the voice repeated slowly on his forehead:“Accursed! All about you the stars will go dark.”And already the sun was only a star.VAnd all disappeared slowly under a veil.Then the archangel quaked; Satan learned to shiver.Toward the star trembling livid on the horizonHe hurled himself, leaping from peak to peak.Then, although with horror at the wings of a beast,Although it was the clothing of emprisonment,Like a bird going from bush to bush,Horrendous he took his flight from mount to mount,And this convict began running in his cell.He ran, he flew, he shouted: “Star of gold! Brother!6Wait for me! I’m running! Don’t go out yet!Don’t leave me alone!”Thus the monsterCrossed the first lakes of the dead immensity,Former chaos, emptied and already stagnant,And into the lugubrious depths he plunged.Now the star was only a spark.He went down further in universal shadow,Sank further, cast himself wallowing in the night,Climbed the filthy mountains, their damp gleaming front,Whose base is unsteady in the cesspool deeps,And trembling stared before him.The sparkWas only a red dot in the depth of the dark abyss.VIAs between two battlements the archer leansOn the wall, when twilight has reached his keep,Wild he leaned from the mountain top,
And upon the star, hoping to arouse its flame,He started to blow as upon some ember.And anguish caused his fierce nostrils to swell.The breath rushing from his chestIs now upon earth and called hurricane.

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