Lying on the sand like ruminating cattle
They turn their eyes toward the horizon of the sea
And their clasped hands and their feet
which seek the other's
Know both sweet languor and shudders of pain

Some, whose hearts grew amorous from long confessions
In the depth of the woods, among the babbling brooks
Spell out the love of their timid adolescence
By carving the green wood of young saplings

Others, like sisters, walk gravely and with slow steps
Among the high rocks peopled with apparitions
Where Saint Anthony saw the naked, purple breasts
Of his temptations rise up like lava

There are some who by the light of crumbling resin
In the silent void of the old pagan caverns
Call out for help from their screaming fevers to you
O Bacchus, who lull to sleep the ancient remorse!

And others, whose breasts love the feel of scapulars
Who, concealing a whip under their long habits
Mingle, in the dark woods and solitary nights
The froth of pleasure with tears of torment

O virgins, O demons, O monsters, O martyrs
Great spirits, contemptuous of reality
Seekers of the infinite, pious and satyric

Sometimes full of cries, sometimes full of tears
You whom my spirit has followed into your hell
Poor sisters, I love you as much as I pity you
For your gloomy sorrows, your unsatisfied thirsts
And the urns of love with which your great hearts are filled!