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« Friendship »
Narcisa Puf
Acrylic on paper, 2020.
CAT
Poetry and painting
From its blond and brown fur
A perfume comes out so sweet that one evening
I was embalmed by it, to have it
Caressed once, just once.
It is the familiar spirit of the place;
He judges, he presides, he inspires
All things in his empire;
Maybe he's a fairy, maybe he's a god?
When my eyes, towards this cat that I love
Pulled as by a magnet,
Turn around obediently
And I look within myself,
I see with astonishment
The fire of his pale pupils,
Clear lanterns, living opals,
Who stare at me fixedly.
Charles Baudelaire, poet (1821-1867)
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