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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=483226" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Forehead of the Rose</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=483226" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Despite the open window in the room of long absence, the odor of the rose is still linked with the<br>breath that was there. Once again we are without previous experience, newcomers, in love. The<br>rose! The field of its ways would dispel even the effrontery of death. No grating stands in the way.<br>Desire is alive, an ache in our vaporous foreheads.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=483226" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">One who walks the earth in its rains has nothing to fear from the thorn in places either finished or<br>unfriendly. But if he stops to commune with himself, woe! Pierced to the quick, he suddenly flies to<br>ashes, an archer reclaimed by beauty.</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=Ren%C3%A9+Char">René Char</a></strong></div>

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