Voici venir le temps <br /> <br />Now is the hour when, swinging in the breeze, <br />Each flower, like a censer, sheds its sweet. <br />The air is full of scents and melodies, <br />O languorous waltz ! O swoon of dancing feet! <br /> <br />Each flower, like a censer, sheds its sweet, <br />The violins are like sad souls that cry, <br />O languorous waltz ! O swoon of dancing feet! <br />A shrine of Death and Beauty is the sky. <br /> <br />The violins are like sad souls that cry, <br />Poor souls that hate the vast. black night of Death ; <br />A shrine of Death and Beauty is the sky. <br />Drowned in red blood, the Sun gives up his breath. <br /> <br />This soul that hates the vast black night of Death <br />Takes all the luminous past back tenderly, <br />Drowned in red blood, the Sun gives up his breath. <br />Thine image like a monstrance shines in me.<br /><br />Lord Alfred Douglas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/harmonic-du-soir/
