Like an Angel, feral eyed,
Piercing to your sleeping side,
Gliding down with oily flight
In the inward of the night,
When the livid day lights waken
You will my place forsaken
Icy till the evening's here.
As others might with tenderness
Rule your life and your youngness
I shall rule you with fear.
---trans. Hilary Clarke, FLOWERS OF EVIL, Eds. Marthiel and Jackson Mathews (New Direction Press, 1989)
May I ask thee, Great Charles Baudelaire: "What is the mystagogical terror of Angelic Fear? Heretofore, of 'Ministering Angels'???"
RSY Kim, Editor in Chief