Soon we will plunge into cold darkness;
Farewell, vivid brightness of our too short summers !
I can already hear falling with funereal shocks
The wood resounding on the pavement of the courtyards.All winter will return to my being: anger,
Hatred, chills, horror, hard and forced labor,
And, like the sun in its polar hell,
My heart will be nothing more than a red and icy block.
I listen with a shudder to each log that falls;
The scaffold we build has no more muted echo.
My mind is like the falling tower
Under the blows of the indefatigable and heavy battering ram.
It seems to me, lulled by this monotonous shock,
Let a coffin be nailed in great haste somewhere.
For who ? “Yesterday was summer; here comes autumn!
This mysterious noise sounds like a departure.
Charles Baudelaire 1857.
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