- This melancholy evening when the heavens are troubled, air
Where dwelt his dark brooding storm
I hear these voices of love and hearts these exiles
Shake the fury of their thousand mirages!
The wind that turns the algae into the water
And the smell gives me nights of Dalmatia,
Guide to my heart these supreme sobs.
- O madness, O sublime, dark poetry!
Anna de Noailles, Island of Venice crazy, The Living and the Dead (1913)
Robert Aimed for Tomb Misses In Sight
