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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354492" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Morning Twilight</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Reveille was sounding on barrack-squares,<br>and the wind of dawn blew on lighted stairs.<br>It was the hour when a swarm of evil visions<br>torments swarthy adolescents, when pillows hum:<br>when, a bloodshot eye, throbbing and quivering,<br>the lamp makes a reddened stain on the morning:<br>when the soul, by dull sour body, bowed down,<br>enacts the struggle between lamp and dawn.<br>Like a tearful face that the breeze wipes dry,<br>the air’s filled with the frisson of things that fly,<br>and man is tired of writing, woman with loving.<br>The chimneys, here and there, began smoking.<br>The women of pleasure, with their bleary eyes,<br>and gaping mouths, were sleeping stupefied:<br>poor old women, with chilled and meagre breasts,<br>blew the embers, then fingers, roused from rest.<br>It was the hour, when frozen, with money scarcer,<br>the pains of women in childbirth grew fiercer:<br>and like a sob cut short by a surge of blood<br>a cock-crow far away broke through the fog:<br>a sea of mist bathed the buildings, dying men,<br>in the depths of the workhouse, groaned again<br>emitting their death-rattles in ragged breaths.<br>Debauchees, tired by their efforts, headed for rest. <br>Shivering dawn in a robe of pink and green<br>made her way slowly along the deserted Seine,<br>and sombre Paris, eyes rubbed and watering,<br>groped for its tools, an old man, labouring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Baudelaire">Charles Baudelaire</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354492" data-title="Morning Twilight de Charles Baudelaire" data-description="Reveille was sounding on barrack-squares,
and the wind of dawn blew on lighted stairs.
It was the hour when a swarm of evil visions
torments swarthy adolescents, when pillows hum:
when, a bloodshot eye, throbbing and quivering,
the lamp makes a re..."></div>
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