"Wherever Pascal went, his gulf was spread,
All is abyss — dream, act, desire, or word!
And often by the wind of terror stirred
I've felt the hair shoot upright on my head.
High up, low down, all round, the depth descending,
The verge, the silence, the dread captor, Space.
Behind my nights I see God's finger trace
A Nightmare multiform yet never-ending.
I dread my sleep like some enormous hole
Full of vague horror, leading to no goal.
All windows bare the infinite to me.
My soul, in its vertiginous endeavour,
Envies the senseless void — Ah, never never
From entities or numbers to be free!"
Charles Baudelaire (translated by Roy Campbell)
