The Night
When twilight falls, on every flowerbed, It falls upon one empty heart, admired, This somber, bent figure, yet sparks no dread, In the silence reborn, immersed in the tired.
Oh, I love the sadness of the night decree. Nothing’s weightless yet; shadows tangled, sway, In these fleeting bonds that sway silently, Voices of dispersed stars wander, done with day.
- Charles Baudelaire