There are strong perfumes for which all matter⏎ Is porous. One would say they go through glass.⏎ On opening a coffer that has come from the East,⏎ Whose creaking lock resists and grates,⏎ ⏎ Or in a deserted house, some cabinet⏎ Full of the Past's acrid odor, dusty and black,⏎ Sometimes one finds an antique phial which remembers,⏎ Whence gushes forth a living soul returned to life.⏎ ⏎ Many thoughts were sleeping, death-like chrysalides,⏎ Quivering softly in the heavy shadows,⏎ That free their wings and rise in flight,⏎ Tinged with azure, glazed with rose, spangled with gold.⏎ ⏎ That is the bewitching souvenir which flutters⏎ In the troubled air; the eyes close; Dizziness⏎ Seizes the vanquished soul, pushes it with both hands⏎ Toward a darkened abyss of human pollution:⏎ ⏎ He throws it down at the edge of an ancient abyss,⏎ Where, like stinking Lazarus tearing wide his shroud,⏎ There moves as it wakes up, the ghostly cadaver⏎ Of a rancid old love, charming and sepulchral.⏎ ⏎ Thus, when I'll be lost to the memory⏎ Of men, when I shall be tossed into the corner⏎ Of a dismal wardrobe, a desolate old phial,⏎ Decrepit, cracked, slimy, dirty, dusty, abject,⏎ ⏎ Delightful pestilence! I shall be your coffin,⏎ The witness of your strength and of your virulence,⏎ Beloved poison prepared by the angels! Liqueur⏎ That consumes me, O the life and death of my heart!🏁

There are strong perfumes for which all matter⏎ Is porous. One would say they go through glass.⏎ On opening a coffer that has come from the East,⏎ Whose creaking lock resists and grates,⏎ ⏎ Or in a deserted house, some cabinet⏎ Full of the Past's acrid odor, dusty and black,⏎ Sometimes one finds an antique phial which remembers,⏎ Whence gushes forth a living soul returned to life.⏎ ⏎ Many thoughts were sleeping, death-like chrysalides,⏎ Quivering softly in the heavy shadows,⏎ That free their wings and rise in flight,⏎ Tinged with azure, glazed with rose, spangled with gold.⏎ ⏎ That is the bewitching souvenir which flutters⏎ In the troubled air; the eyes close; Dizziness⏎ Seizes the vanquished soul, pushes it with both hands⏎ Toward a darkened abyss of human pollution:⏎ ⏎ He throws it down at the edge of an ancient abyss,⏎ Where, like stinking Lazarus tearing wide his shroud,⏎ There moves as it wakes up, the ghostly cadaver⏎ Of a rancid old love, charming and sepulchral.⏎ ⏎ Thus, when I'll be lost to the memory⏎ Of men, when I shall be tossed into the corner⏎ Of a dismal wardrobe, a desolate old phial,⏎ Decrepit, cracked, slimy, dirty, dusty, abject,⏎ ⏎ Delightful pestilence! I shall be your coffin,⏎ The witness of your strength and of your virulence,⏎ Beloved poison prepared by the angels! Liqueur⏎ That consumes me, O the life and death of my heart!🏁