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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354458" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lament Of An Icarus</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354458" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Lovers of whores don’t care,<br>happy, calm and replete:<br>But my arms are incomplete,<br>grasping the empty air.<br>Thanks to stars, incomparable ones,<br>that blaze in the depths of the skies,<br>all my destroyed eyes<br>see, are the memories of suns.<br>I look, in vain, for beginning and end<br>of the heavens’ slow revolve:<br>Under an unknown eye of fire, I ascend<br>feeling my wings dissolve.<br>And, scorched by desire for the beautiful,<br>I will not know the bliss,<br>of giving my name to that abyss,<br>that knows my tomb and funeral.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Charles+Baudelaire">Charles Baudelaire</a></strong></div>

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