As fi vrut, cat as fi vrut sa nu mai plecam nicicand de pe banca aceea, sa ne ingroape pe amandoi sevele vegetale, muschiul si mormanele de frunze, sa ne prefacem fara sa stim in pamant, in cenusa, in nimic.
Fluturii albi mor spre sfarsitul verii
This book, The last night of love, the first night of war by Camil Petrescu is so beautiful.
Reading it feels like honey slowly making its way into my body, thick and sweet. Its the kind of book you have to make notes on the side and you feel like reading paragraphs twice just because you can’t believe it the first time. It makes me laugh inside, stop to let the words sink in, while the book rests on my chest.
We shall have beds full of subtle perfumes,
Divans as deep as graves, and on the shelves
Will be strange flowers that blossomed for us
Under more beautiful heavens.
Using their dying flames emulously,
Our two hearts will be two immense torches
Which will reflect their double light
In our two souls, those twin mirrors.
Some evening made of rose and of mystical blue
A single flash will pass between us
Like a long sob, charged with farewells;
And later an Angel, setting the doors ajar,
Faithful and joyous, will come to revive
The tarnished mirrors, the extinguished flames.
– Charles Baudelaire