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Normale Version: From Baudelaire
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From Baudelaire

There shall be beds full of light odours blent,
Divans, great couches, deep, profound as tombs,
And frown for us, in light magnificent,
Over the flower-stand there shall droop strange blooms.
Careful of their last flame declining,
As two vast torches our two hearts shall flare,
And our two spirits in their double shining
Reflect the double lights enchanted there.
One night--A night of mystic blue, of rose,
A look will pass supreme from me, from you,
Like a long sob, laden with long adieux.
And, later on, an angel will unclose
The door, and, entering joyously, re-light
The tarnished mirrors and the flames blown to the night.
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