Under a light gray, restless,
without reason, writhes and presses
dancing, shameless and noisy
Life: So, then, when rises
voluptuous night horizon,
and everything, even the family, self-quieting,
all cloud and off, even shame,
"Here, at last," murmured the poet.
"Pace asks my spirit and my
each fiber, peace, and nothing else elixir;
funeral filled the heart of dreams,
vo 'stretch my limbs
supine in the shade of your curtains and there always
, or darkness, sleep, "Charles Baudelaire
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