THE WINE OF LOVERS

Space rolls to-day her splendour round!

Unbridled, spurless, without bound,

Mount we upon the wings of wine

For skies fantastic and divine!

Let us, like angels tortured by

Some wild delirious phantasy,

Follow the far-off mirage born

In the blue crystal of the morn.

And gently balanced on the wing

Of the wild whirlwind we will, ride,

Rejoicing with the joyous thing.

My sister, floating side by side,

Fly we unceasing whither gleams

The distant heaven of my dreams.

Baudelaire: His Prose and Poetry · 第 155 / 288 题