Charles Baudelaire. (№ 361455)

There are scents whose power over us is endless:
In any substance eats forever.
Sometimes, the casket outlandish opening
(Zajavlenie lock resistant and shrill),
Il somewhere in a corner of junk in the attic
Caked in dust that we find unattractive
A bottle from-under spirits: he's dull, and empty and dry,
But the memory in it alive, alive without a spirit.
Past dreams, enthusiasm and resentment,
Dreams faded - blind chrysalide,
From the musty darkness, as if to gain strength,
Vypustyat suddenly the magnificence of the wings.