La Mort des amants : beds of subtle fragrance shall be ours, soft divans far deeper than a tomb, fairer climes shall yield mysterious flowers — flowers which for us were made to bloom. lavishing our final amorous hours there, our flaming hearts shall merge and loom in the twin mirrors of these souls of ours — torches vast which side by side consume. then some evening, rose and mystic blue, charged with the sobbing woe of our adieu, Love shall links us in one lightning-spark; later, shall the faithful angel fling all the portals wide, illumining the flameless torches and the mirrors dark. – Baudelaire

21/09/2010 § Leave a comment

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You are currently reading La Mort des amants : beds of subtle fragrance shall be ours, soft divans far deeper than a tomb, fairer climes shall yield mysterious flowers — flowers which for us were made to bloom. lavishing our final amorous hours there, our flaming hearts shall merge and loom in the twin mirrors of these souls of ours — torches vast which side by side consume. then some evening, rose and mystic blue, charged with the sobbing woe of our adieu, Love shall links us in one lightning-spark; later, shall the faithful angel fling all the portals wide, illumining the flameless torches and the mirrors dark. – Baudelaire at there will be no miracles here.

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