THE END OF THE DAY

Irish Independent - Weekend Review - - FRONT PAGE -

Be­neath a thin sun Life writhes with­out rea­son Moves shame­lessly, runs, Till on the hori­zon

Comes sen­su­ous night, And as hunger eases Shame takes its flight. The poet says ‘Oh Je­sus

My spir­its op­press me, My back cries for respite, Through dark dreams en­mesh me

I will roll with de­light In the cur­tain of night, Whose shades will re­fresh me’.

Charles Baude­laire 1821-1867

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