Hugo von Hofmannsthal
Vienna
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Creatures Of Flame

We are all creatures of flame. The butterfly: the intensity of a short life and fragility become color. My death is like shadow, my life aquiver, a pulse in the light; I am so close to death it makes me proud, cruel and demonic.
Unmoved, I flutter from Helen's lips to Adonis' wound. I love my death, the flame, more than anything.
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