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How like steam escaping the boil
Were your blurry eyes—what color are they?
By turns tender, dreamy, and cruel
With the pallor and indolence of the sky.

I remember white days of long haze
When, ravished and twisted by nerves,
I wept, my melting mind split in two;
My waking and sleeping mocked each other.

Sometimes you seemed a gorgeous horizon
That suns in seasons of fog set afire
As, rainy landscape, you shone
Dappled by rays breaking through blur.

Dangerous Man, Hombre, Mister Languor,
Shall I learn now to adore your frosts and snow,
Shall I get from this relentless winter
Pleasures that sting like tongue touched to iron?

              after "Ciel Brouillé" by Charles Baudelaire