Poem: Charles Baudelaire

There are perfumes as cool as the flesh of children,

Sweet as oboes, green as meadows

- And others are corrupt, and rich, triumphant,

With power to expand into infinity,

Like amber and incense, musk, benzoin,

That sing the ecstasy of the soul and senses.

from blog post by Bois de Jasmin on the Perfumative Zurich