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The Fountain of Blood

[名人诗歌]      来源:
  by Charles Baudelaire (Translated by Rachel Hadas)

    A fountain's pulsing sobs——like this my blood

    Measures its flowing, so it sometimes seems.

    I hear a gentle murmur as it streams;

    Where the wound lies I've never understood.

    Like water meadows, boulevards are flooded.

    Cobblestones, crisscrossed by scarlet rills,

    Are islands; creatures come and drink their fill.

    Nothing in nature now remains unblooded.

    I used to hope that wine could bring me ease,

    Could lull asleep my deeply gnawing mind.

    I was a fool: the senses clear with wine.

    I looked to love to cure my old disease.

    love led me to a thicket of IVs

    Where bristling needles thirsted for each vein.


The Fountain of Blood文章来源头牌英语[名人诗歌]
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