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Charles Baudelaire - To She Who Is Too Light-heartedCharles Baudelaire - To She Who Is Too Light-hearted
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Your head, your gesture, your air, are lovely, like a lovely landscape: laughter’s alive, in your face, a fresh breeze in a clear atmosphere. The dour passer-by you brush past there, is dazzled by health in flight, flashing like a brilliant light from your arms and shoulders. The resounding colours with which you sprinkle your dress, inspire the spirits of poets with thoughts of dancing flowers. Those wild clothes are the emblem of your brightly-hued mind: madcap by whom I’m terrified, I hate you, and love you, the same! Sometimes in a lovely garden where I trailed my listlessness, I’ve felt the sunlight sear my breast like some ironic weapon: and Spring’s green presence brought such humiliation I’ve levied retribution on a flower, for Nature’s insolence. So through some night, when the hour of sensual pleasure sounds, I’d like to slink, mute coward, bound for your body’s treasure, to bruise your sorry breast, to punish your joyful flesh, form in your startled side, a fresh wound’s yawning depth, and breath-taking rapture! through those lips, new and full more vivid and more beautiful infuse my venom, my sister!
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