9.Emerald Blood
'La fée verte' indeed noted a fantasia of bohemian charm.
Sang without Sucre？ How does one live on？
Of worm wood, of aniseed.
No time for tea; Just a pin prick to the tongue.
The hedonism of Esmeralda：-
And her funeral song.
La musee de L'Absinthe; Drink on! Drink on!
Ah! Indulge like the vampire;
But fend off envious ones.
Like tea is to blood;
It's a peasant in the presence of such a vilified drug.
No more than the ordinary spirit and out of body we are.
More Precious for your banishment,
More calming than morphine,
Of one single drop, of one cured pain.
Beside your moonlit spoon, in your nymph manner：-
You're enlightening the room with your gloom and glamour.
Tranquil culinary herb and deathly to malaria,
A friend to a soldiers gore and poisonous by lore.
Absinthe now and absent never.
With just a spoonful of sugar.
The fairy dubbed a knight by poets and more.
One hears your intoxicating concerto through an open door.
The heart wants what the heart wants,
Illustrious emerald blood.
Mon amour, Mon amour.
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