Sunday, 25 April 2010 at 14:11 [Image: Le Rideau Cramoisi (The Crimson Curtain), Félicien Rops, 1879] : Illustration for Les Diaboliques, by Jules Barbey-d’Aurevilly, 1874] The role of scent in lovemaking becomes more and more understood, thanks to the science of biochemistry and the discovery of pheromones and other such olfactory biological agents. A woman, all by herself, and without the aid of any artificial scent, has a plethora of her own perfumes; each region, each zone of her body can claim its own unique perfume which is the province and possession of that particular woman exclusively. What man would fail to know the scent of his beloved mate’s cheek, her throat, her wrists, her lips…, and hers alone? He would immediately know his beloved by using his sense of smell, even in the dark. Our scents bind us together, and intertwine in our bedchambers, forming a sensual olfactory symphony that we, as lovers, produce only for the two of us. Note: It is an unfortunate contemporary cultural fact that the armpits (of women in particular) have been designated as places that are ‘off limits’. Thanks to Madison Avenue’s efforts in the ‘50s and ‘60s to convince us that we are all secretly offending others by hidden foul smells that only Proctor & Gamble can remove or mask with their products, obscures the fact that a woman’s natural pheromones emanate from this place and others, and are a key component of sexual attraction and seduction for our sense of smell. It has worked just fine as a vital component of our mating system for several million years. Our scents are a powerful non-verbal communication that can entice like no other. If a woman is ‘clean’ as defined by her own personal hygienic standards, there is no need to fear the point where her lithe arms join her luxurious and redolent torso… Encens Féminins La femme est un riche encensoir Aux multiples encens qui fument Doucement quand tombe le soir Dans les alcôves qu’ils parfument. Son corps offre de chers banquets A nos fringales de narines En pamoison à ces bouquets Imprégnés d’effluves marines, Car Vénus sortant de la mer Sut garder au fond de son être Comme un ressouvenir amer Du grain du sel qui la fit naître… Sur l’onde opaque des cheveux Un fumet puissant appareille Et vogue – portant les aveux Murmurés en fièvre à l’oreille. Dans la nuque sont embusqués, Parmi les poils follets qui frisent, Des essaims d’arômes musqués Dont les intimités nous grisent. Sur la bouche aux charmes secrets La myrrhe, le benjoin et l’ambre Epandent leurs souffles discrets Sous lesquels le baiser se cambre. La gorge nue a des parfums Pleins de subtiles chatteries Où les Amours, d’amour défunts, Raniment leurs plumes flétries. Mais parmi toutes ces senteurs Les plus capiteuses sont celles Qui nichent leurs esprits chanteurs Aux creux crespelé des aisselles… La femme est un riche encensoir Aux multiples encens qui fument Doucement quand tombe le soir Dans les alcôves qu’ils parfument. Théodore Hannon, Rimes de Joie, 1884. Feminine Incense Woman is a rich censer Where multiple incenses smoke Gently when evening falls In the alcoves which her presence perfumes. Her body offers rich banquets To the hungers of our nostrils Which swoon to these bouquets Impregnated with exhalations oceanic, For Venus -- having left the sea Knows how to keep at the depths of her being A bitter remembrance Of the grain of salt from which she was born… On the opaque wave of tresses A powerful aroma gets under way And sets sail - carrying confessions Whispered feverishly to the ear. Upon the back of the neck lay snares, Among the confused hairs that curl, dwell swarms of musky aromas Whose intimacies make us blanch. On the mouth lay secret charms Myrrh, Benzoin and amber Expand their subtle breaths Under which their kiss arches back upon itself. The naked throat has perfumes Full of subtle coaxings Where Loves, dead loves, Can resuscitate their withered feathers. But among all these scents The headiest are those That nestle their singing spirits In the curl-covered hollows of the armpits… Woman is a rich censer Where multiple incenses smoke Gently when evening falls In the alcoves which her presence perfumes. Théodore Hannon, Rhymes of Delight, 1884. [Traduction Anglaise: R.E.André III / Sardonique Schadenfreude Rictus / Dr. Bathybius, 2008] |
raymond >