Sometimes it seems to me my blood gushes
like a fountain, in rhythmic sobs,
I hear it flowing with long murmurs,
but I grope in vain to find the wound.
All across the city, as in a field of honour,
it spills out, transforming paving stones to islands,
quenching Every creature’s thirst and painting all nature red.
Often I have asked strong wine to numb for a day the terror consuming me:
but wine only renders the eye still clearer and the ear more acute.
I have sought in love forgetful sleep;
but love for me is nothing but a bed of razors!,
cumshaw for these cruel whores..
Charles Baudelaire ~ Fountains Of Blood
3 comments
it’s … beautiful … to the deepest level ..
what words i read i can only weep. This is beautiful
It is by contemporary artist Franco B if you want to check out any of his work,
those pictures are from the ‘performance’, tragic & beautiful.
http://www.franko-b.com/