Charles Baudelaire

by walterdoege

               The Sadness of the Moon

Rambles in the middle of the night the lazy moon;

As a beauty, between thrones and daydreams,

Who strokes with and hand,

Before I fall asleep, the contour of the breasts.


On the back of the tender tender

Dying, she delivers to long throws,

And the eyes will be landing on the niveas spots

That in the blue we bloom likes strange flowers

If sometimes in this globe, drunk of leisure and pleasure,

Let her a stealth tear drain

A charitable poet, sleepless nights.

In the concave of the hands makes that drop care,

From Irisados reflexes like a grain of Opal,

And far away from the sun, it takes her in the chest.


P.S. I remembered this poem, and others, like ‘Spleen”, during the event of the eclipse. The sun, the moon. in a dance, and the moon sparring drops, or tears, as occurs every month.