Here you will find the Poem Lament Of An Icarus of poet Charles Baudelaire
Lovers of whores don?t care, happy, calm and replete: But my arms are incomplete, grasping the empty air. Thanks to stars, incomparable ones, that blaze in the depths of the skies, all my destroyed eyes see, are the memories of suns. I look, in vain, for beginning and end of the heavens? slow revolve: Under an unknown eye of fire, I ascend feeling my wings dissolve. And, scorched by desire for the beautiful, I will not know the bliss, of giving my name to that abyss, that knows my tomb and funeral.