great woods, you frighten me just like cathedrals;
your howls are like the organ; and in our cursed hearts,
rooms of eternal mourning where vibrate rattles of death
respond the echoes of your de profundis.

I hate you, ocean! your bounding and your tumult,
my spirit retrieves that briny laugh
of the man vanquished, full of sobs and insults

but more of the seas enormous laugh.

how I would like you, night! without those stars
whose light speaks a language I know!
for I seek the void, the night, and the nude

but  the darkness themselves are of cloth
they live gushing from my eye in thousands
then disappear with the look of familiars

            -baudelaire