My youth was a dark storm
Crossed now and then by brilliant suns
Thunder and rain have caused such havoc,
it remains in my garden very few ripe fruits.
That I touched the fall of ideas
And that should be used shovels and rakes
To bring to nine the wetlands, where water
digs holes as large as tombs.
And who knows if the new flowers I dream
find in this soil washed like a strike
The mystical food that would force them?
- Alas! O pain! Time eats life
And Dark Enemy who gnaws at the heart
the blood we lose grows and strengthens!
Charles Baudelaire
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