Here you will find the Poem The Inquisitive Mans Dream of poet Charles Baudelaire
Á Nadar Do you know, as I do, delicious sadness and make others say of you: `Strange man!? - I was dying. In my soul, singular illness, desire and horror were mingled as one: anguish and living hope, no factious bile. The more the fatal sand ran out, the more acute, delicious my torment: my heart entire was tearing itself away from the world I saw. I was like a child eager for the spectacle, hating the curtain as one hates an obstacle? at last the truth was chillingly revealed: I?d died without surprise, dreadful morning enveloped me. ? Was this all there was to see? The curtain had risen, and I was still waiting.
