« No fragrance is sweeter than that of a rose
When one remembers having breathed it in
Or when the ardent bottle, where its soul is enclosed,
Preserves in crystal the captured aroma.
That is why, if ever with fever and delight
I felt your body thrust into my arms
After having long suffered the bitter torment
Of my secret desire that you did not know,
If, by turns, silent, urgent, humble, fierce,
Prowling around you in the shadows, suddenly,
I finally plucked the flower from your lips,
O you, my dear pleasure who were my torment.
If I have known through you the unparalleled intoxication
Whose voluptuous or tender fury
Mysteriously reborn and awakens
Each time my heart beats against yours,
However, neither the close caress, nor the embrace
Nor the double kiss that Desire makes things short
Two beautiful eyes whose flame is extinguished are worthless
In that divine rest one tastes after love!. « (Henri de Régnier)
DantéBéa 