It is not sweet, now we are tired
and tarnished, like other men
to search for those fires
in the furthest east, where again, we might see
morning’s new dawn, and in mad history
hear the echoes that vanish behind us, the sighs
of young love that God gives, at the start of our lives.

- C. Baudelaire

It is not sweet, now we are tired
and tarnished, like other men
to search for those fires
in the furthest east, where again, we might see
morning’s new dawn, and in mad history
hear the echoes that vanish behind us, the sighs
of young love that God gives, at the start of our lives.

- C. Baudelaire

It is not sweet, now we are tired
and tarnished, like other men
to search for those fires
in the furthest east, where again, we might see
morning’s new dawn, and in mad history
hear the echoes that vanish behind us, the sighs
of young love that God gives, at the start of our lives.

- C. Baudelaire

It is not sweet, now we are tired
and tarnished, like other men
to search for those fires
in the furthest east, where again, we might see
morning’s new dawn, and in mad history
hear the echoes that vanish behind us, the sighs
of young love that God gives, at the start of our lives.

- C. Baudelaire