Immoral mire, slithering assault on
All our senses. Sober men avert their
Minds. Chaste women face away, lest trembling
They ignite unquenchable desires. This
Is how Man’s fall began, thus we end like
Her, drowning in a Midas light, food for
Rebellious, curious, feasting eyes,
Desperate, in love with that which we despise.
Should the golden scales fall from our eyes as
Leaves from the Tree of Words, should the mysteries
Of Sleep reveal the secrets of this strife,
Then, with the parting of her lips, sweet breath
Shall inform us with an obvious truth -
From deep within this sea of limbs comes Life.
Klimt outraged and attracted in equal proportion. He seems to delight in pushing the boundaries and using convention against itself.