Pleasure (with thanks to Baudelaire)

You must always
Seek pleasure;
Find it, savour
Its dripping sweetness,
Float effortlessly
In its silky waters;
Inhale
Its fair, unnameable scents
Until, swooning,
You are immune
To the language of pain,
The lexicon of sorrow;
Yes, call down the sun’s rays
On your winter-ravaged cheeks.
And when the beast, dread,
Stirs in the dead hours
And stalks its easy prey,
When hell’s caress
Grooms its unsleeping victim,
Tell the black heart of night,
Bellow to the world
And every unsayable fear
Pleasure is mine,
Pleasure is me!