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Charles Baudelaire - Composure
Work rating: Low

(The speaker addresses himself)

Lighten up, you bitch, stop being so bitter.
You lobbied for night. It falls. Right here.
The air, a haziness, wimples the town.
Peace for some, for the others the jitters. 

With cranked-up hope, the plodding herd, most of us,
sapped silly by desire, that ruthlessness,
we bend in the traces and ask mortgage on remorse.
Dear, dear, glum thing, let`s hold hands. Come `ere. 

Let`s get away. Look up. There the gone years slouch
in second-hand robes on the balcony of the sky—
over the abyss Regret breaks water, smirking. 

The dead sun`s gonna pass out under the bridge.
And like a mummy`s long bandage, off to the west,
listen, sweets, listen, the double-soft dark is coming on.
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