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3
Les fleurs du mal
The first book of poems I bought was Les Fleur du Mal, by Baudelaire.
His character has always fascinated me, but also the contrast between Spleen and the ideal, understood as the evil of living and boredom (called, precisely, spleen) and the beauty of life, expressed through art and poetry; and then madness, a state of mind that serves to distance oneself from reality; the correspondences between things, wine and all those that are artificial paradises, as the only way to calm that pain of living.
Crying of Evil is inspired by this collection of poems, and exudes voluptuousness, shadows and magnetism: sugary, spicy and sensual notes alternate, I perceive the red fruits, the floral part, in this case withered, intense and slightly smoky.
Beautiful creation, full and seductive.
“A flash… then the night! – Fugitive beauty
from the look that immediately made me reborn,
Will I only see you again in eternity?
Elsewhere, very far from here! Too late! Maybe never!
Because I don't know where you're going, nor do you know where I'm going,
you who I would have loved, you who knew it!”
His character has always fascinated me, but also the contrast between Spleen and the ideal, understood as the evil of living and boredom (called, precisely, spleen) and the beauty of life, expressed through art and poetry; and then madness, a state of mind that serves to distance oneself from reality; the correspondences between things, wine and all those that are artificial paradises, as the only way to calm that pain of living.
Crying of Evil is inspired by this collection of poems, and exudes voluptuousness, shadows and magnetism: sugary, spicy and sensual notes alternate, I perceive the red fruits, the floral part, in this case withered, intense and slightly smoky.
Beautiful creation, full and seductive.
“A flash… then the night! – Fugitive beauty
from the look that immediately made me reborn,
Will I only see you again in eternity?
Elsewhere, very far from here! Too late! Maybe never!
Because I don't know where you're going, nor do you know where I'm going,
you who I would have loved, you who knew it!”
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