sabato 1 dicembre 2012

Baudelaire said about an incomplete being.


The man who,
from the beginning of his life,
has been bathed at length in the soft atmosphere of a woman,
in the smell of her hands,
of her bosom,
of her knees,
of her hair,
of her supple and floating clothes,
has contracted from this contact a tender skin and a distinct accent,
a kind of androgyny without which the harshest and most masculine genius remains, as far as perfection in art is concerned, an incomplete being.

[Image by Artchipel. Poem By Baudelaire.]