Here you will find the Poem The Death Of Lovers of poet Charles Baudelaire
We will have beds filled with light scent, and couches deep as a tomb, and strange flowers in the room, blooming for us under skies so pleasant. Vying to exhaust their last fires our hearts will be two vast flares, reflecting their double glares in our two spirits, twin mirrors. One evening of mystic blue and rose we?ll exchange a single brief glow like a long sob, heavy with goodbye, and later, opening the doors, the angel who came faithful and joyful, will revive the lustreless mirrors, and the lifeless flame.
