We Will Meet Again [*POEM*]

AUTHOR UNKNOWN
Translated from the French
by Lasha Darkmoon

THE  GOLDEN  HALLS  OF  EVERMORE

We  Will  Meet  Again


Yes, one day we will meet again
where no storms rage,
and you will be Queen of Cockayne
and I your page.

You will say to me, “Fetch me wine,
and bring me cakes
of honey and sweet eglantine,
served with snowflakes.”

And I will jump to it, Milady,
be sure of that,
your willing slave, your ever-ready
devout doormat.

And I will get me a silk fan
from far Fangchow
made for some slant-eyed courtesan,
to fan your brow.

And maybe as the evening falls
I’ll storm your door
and break into the Golden Halls
of Evermore. 

— Original poem found written on flyleaf
of 19th century edition of Les Fleurs du mal  

20 thoughts to “We Will Meet Again [*POEM*]”

  1. We will meet again is a common phrase of separated souls longing to meet again. There is a good theory as to why souls on earth are longing to find there lost loves and it goes like this:

    Earth is a prison colony for souls, every soul on earth is from another world, where the soul was captured and forced to incarnate on earth. Living life after life on earth, the soul still “remembers” or feels it’s past where it lived in love on a peaceful planet. Unfortunately souls on earth are memory erased so they don’t know where they are from, but for many they long to go home. For those “in touch” with their soul feelings, they bring such longings to the surface and write poetry and such.

    On these other planets, humans with souls, who look just like us, lived out their long lives in peace and harmony but space empire came and captured them, separating them, and cast them to earth, a hell planet, an unstable ice age planet full of war and conflict. The soul, being trapped, lives out their endless life cycles forgetting who they really are and where they are really from.

    For me, I have dreams of my home world and do not fit into this one, so for me, I think the theory stated above may have merit. It is obvious to me that earth is a hell planet, a planet I would never want to reincarnate back to. My only goal for my next life is to beat the soul trap mechanism and not come back to earth, especially seeing how Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg are turning it into a transgender, transhuman hell. In other words, as bad as it is now, these leaders of industry want to trap our souls in biological robot bodies where we never escape.

  2. It’s a crappy poem, no wonder Lasha likes it. The poem is so crappy I think Lasha composed the poem herself. I don’t believe it’s a poem from 19th century France, I don’t buy it. Lasha just composed the crappy poem.

    1. Look who’s talking!

      A permanent resident of Spamblinka whose idea of a “good poem” is longwinded rants, mostly unpublished, describing sexual intercourse between horses and human females associated with this website.

      TheRealOrig1nalJ0e . . . Master of Bestiality Porn! 🙂

      1. Cruelty to horses is a sure sign of a twisted mind. TROJ needs counseling he’s not getting. (He’s crying for your attention, Madame.) 😱😭

      2. @ TROJ

        It’s a crappy poem, no wonder Lasha likes it. The poem is so crappy I think Lasha composed the poem herself. I don’t believe it’s a poem from 19th century France, I don’t buy it. Lasha just composed the crappy poem.

        What a horribly nasty thing to say! You really do have psychological problems, don’t you? Your comment is in keeping with your character, however, as a specialist in bestiality porn and numerous unpublished and unpublishable comments.

        If I am astonished by anything, I am astonished at Admin’s failure to delete this totally unnecessary and gratuitous insult to Lasha Darkmoon. It says much for Lasha’s tolerance and kindness that she is prepared to put up with this clown’s constant abuse and makes no attempt to ban him from this website.

        Most other sites have banned him. Mark Glenn booted him off the Ugly Truth, one of numerous sites that have banned him, I believe. So why does the Darkmoon site keep publishing his garbage? Doesn’t make sense to me.

  3. I would like to contribute two poems, one an initial take, the second, well, a second take! Any comments welcome!

    TAKE ONE

    Nothing is Everything

    When I showed my mother this image,
    Latest and greatest, me as model
    (Queen Victoria, look out now!),
    Mom told me, “You’ve nothing on!”

    “’Nothing’, in this case,” I scolded Mom,
    “Costs a fair portion of Everything –
    IF you are a poor street whore
    looking to up-scale.”

    “You are NOT a whore!” Mom screamed.

    “Then,” I responded, steady as thick ice,
    Waves of cruelty sweeping all else away,
    “Tell me the name of my father,
    tell me where he lives now.”

    My mother wept, eyes turned away,
    Her reflection now her projection then,
    Experience years beyond memory’s reach,
    The speed of Light and Its distance marking
    milestones along the course of Time.

    “You have many fathers, everywhere.”

    TAKE TWO

    Nothing is Everything

    When I showed my mother this image,
    Latest and greatest , me the model
    (Victoria, I’m the newest secret!)
    Mom declared, “You’ve nothing on!”

    “’Nothing’, in this case,” I scolded Mom,
    “Costs a fair portion of Everything –
    IF you be a poor street whore hooking,
    looking to up-scale uptown.”

    “I am NOT a whore!” Mom screamed.

    “Then,” I responded, steady as thick ice,
    Waves of cruelty sweeping all else aside,
    “Tell me the name of my father,
    tell me where he lives now.”

    Mom averted moistening eyes,
    My reflection now her projection then,
    Experience years beyond memory’s reach,
    The speed of Light and distance marking
    countless milestones along her Way

    “You have many fathers, everywhere.”

    Original graphic words — alternatively, the wordy graphics — available upon request! Rated “R” for mature audiences who can receive and view attachments to e-mails! Otherwise, you can imagine the image shown to Mom.

    GOD bless each and all Darkmoon denizens!

    Alan

      1. I’m not so sure about that, Gilbert.
        The poem has hidden depths.
        The poet is obviously a deep thinker.

        1. @ Gilbert H

          I am aware of your own ventures into poetry, Gilbert, and must say I find it easier to relate to the type of poetry you write. It is easy to understand, it rhymes, it has music, it’s catchy. I wish you would contribute something of your own here to remind me of your old verse with its romanticism and nostalgia. Didn’t you write a charming little poem about a strange girl on a train you fell madly in love with?

          I wish Alan Donelson could attempt a similar poem so that we could compare the two versions. I expect Alan’s approach would be entirely different, more abstract and metaphysical, whereas you are above all an earthy, down-to-earth kind of poet! 🙂

          @ Alan Donelson

          I prefer Take 1 to Take 2 of your poem. Revision is sometimes a mistake. It’s often best to stick with the original. Anyway, well done! Keep up the good work.

  4. Les Fleurs du mal (The Flowers of Evil) was Charles Baudelaire’s first and most famous volume of poems.
    The collection of poems is a criticism of modernisation: sudden and revolutionary changes brought by the industrialisation, capitalism, the creation of metropolis and the belief in science and continuous progress.

    1. Here are the most interesting facts about Baudelaire who is, incidentally, the French poet most translated by Lasha Darkmoon:

      https://www.darkmoon.me/translations/

      — Baudelaire was a French poet (1821-1867) of independent means who shot to fame and notoriety with the publication of Les Fleurs du Mal (‘Flowers of Evil’) in 1857. Six of the poems were banned at once because of their sexual content, though none of these poems would raise an eyebrow today.

      — Baudelaire was a sex addict and made frequent use of prostitutes, including Jewish prostitutes who were found in almost all the brothels of France and Europe.

      — Baudelaire was deeply infatuated with a French negress, a mulatto called Jeanne Duval, whom he raved about in many of his poems.

      — Baudelaire was also into drugs and drank like a fish.

      — Baudelaire was a Satanist but in a philosophical sense, not in a crude way like Aleister Crowley. Hence his famous poem, Hymn to Satan, which has been translated into English by Lasha Darkmoon — an impressionistic translation which tries to capture the musicality of the original rather than aim for strict linguistic accuracy. This will give you a good idea of Baudelaire’s work — he belongs to the school of French Decadents:

      https://www.darkmoon.me/2016/baudelaires-hymn-to-satan-two-translations/

    1. @ Traducteur

      Lasha is away, so she can’t deal with your request personally. I can tell you however that the 19th-century copy of Les Fleurs du Mal, in which the original poem in French had been written on the flyleaf by an unknown author, was lost in transit between Canada and the Azores archipelago over 15 years ago. Lasha had translated the French into English long before she lost the book en route to the island of São Miguel where she planned to spend six months in a rented cottage by the sea. The book had originally been bought in Toronto, Canada, in an antique bookshop for a considerable sum of money. I doubt if Lasha bothered to keep a copy of the poem.

  5. I am a scientist and mathematician, so I was not attracted to the literacy arts and what I deem to be its fancy, somewhat esoteric, in-house languages.
    My personal belief is that most poets take too long to make one simple point. This may be what angers TROJ.
    The above literary offering refers to a seemingly self-emasculated man who serves as a “page” to “Milady.” Hardly the stuff of my Muslim mates, who are rugged men who do not bow down to their women folk.
    In this role he is willing to be her slave and bring her sweet condiments and even fan her face with a “silk fan from Fangchow”, brought to him by a “slant-eyed courtesan.”
    In modern PC terms the “page” is a racist.
    I am not sure if I read the ending correctly: Is he saying he will bide his time as her slave, until the time comes when he will “storm” her sanctuary and “break into the golden fields of evermore.” That is, “storm her door” and give her a good rodgering?
    Perhaps TROJ sees the “page” as her magnificent stallion that she rides every day, who will one day mount her instead of her riding side saddle on him.
    The word “evermore” confuses me. Does this person or horse think he will remain in her bedchamber for “evermore”, having dispensed with the trappings of lowly servitude.
    Okay, I’m not good with literary flourishes, so it is back to my numbers and investigation of chaos theory.
    Math is beautiful to me and is the key to opening the doors of the Universe.
    Everything is mathematical. Even the “storming” of the lady’s door requires mass, force, units of power and energy, which might affect later performance in Milady’s bedchamber. Unless he has the strength and stamina of a stallion.
    TROJ, enjoy your directness. Eg. “Put em in burqas,”

  6. Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
    In the forests of the night.
    Whose are these eyes bearing down at me?
    Why it is my page, with eyes like a flea.

    (These four lines are filled with subtle meaning, just like a prized work of modern art, only understood by the initiated. Not unlike a Pollock painting of streaks and colours thrown upon the canvas of delight, now worth $millions.)
    In part, It shows “Milady’s” utter contempt for her lowly, sex obsessed “page” and how he can never satisfy the immense longings of her nocturnal wanderings.
    Smashing her door is a waste of time, as he will never measure up.

  7. Finally, the expression of Milady’s utter contempt for the lowly, sex-obsessed page:
    “On what wings dare he aspire?
    What the hand dare seize the fire?”
    In other words, the servant is a sad sycophant who should not dare to lust on Milady.
    He will be sent burning in the fires of hell. His “fearful symmetry” will be extinguished.
    With apologies to one of my favourite literary sources.

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