| Cats By: Charles Baudelaire Fevered lovers and austere thinkers Love equally, in their ripe season Cats powerful and gentle, pride of the house Like them they feel the cold, like them are sedentary Friends of science and sensuality They seek the silence and the horror of the shadows Erebus had taken them for its funeral coursers Could they to servitude incline their pride. Dreaming, they take on noble postures Great sphinxes stretched out in the depths of emptiness Seeming to fall asleep into an endless dream. Their fertile loins are full of magic sparks And nuggets of gold like fine sand Vaguely bestir their mystic pupils. |