The Fountain of Blood
de Charles-Pierre Baudelaire(2005)
1 min lectură
Mediu
A fountain\'s pulsing sobs--like this my blood
Measures its flowing, so it sometimes seems.
I hear a gentle murmur as it streams;
Where the wound lies I\'ve never understood.
Like water meadows, boulevards are flooded.
Cobblestones, crisscrossed by scarlet rills,
Are islands; creatures come and drink their fill.
Nothing in nature now remains unblooded.
I used to hope that wine could bring me ease,
Could lull asleep my deeply gnawing mind.
I was a fool: the senses clear with wine.
I looked to Love to cure my old disease.
Love led me to a thicket of IVs
Where bristling needles thirsted for each vein.
Despre aceasta lucrare
- Tip
- Poezie
- An
- 2005
- Cuvinte
- 104
- Citire
- 1 min
- Versuri
- 14
- Actualizat
Cum sa citezi
Charles-Pierre Baudelaire. “The Fountain of Blood.” Clasici, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/clasici/charles-pierre-baudelaire/poezie/the-fountain-of-bloodIntrebari frecvente
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