A season in hell

vii. lives : what is my nothingness, in comparison with the stupor that awaits you? that charm has captured soul and body and dissipated my endeavours. o seasons! o chateaux! xx. vigils : it is repose illuminated, neither fever nor languor, on the bed or on the meadow. alas! the hour that it flies will be the hour of my demise. quant au monde, quand tu sortiras, que sera-t-il devenu? as for the world, when you depart, what will it has become? o seasons! o chateaux! la crevaison pour le monde qui va. let the rest of the world drop dead. and, that is finished. i know today how to hail beauty.

Trembling / thrashing.