Through the large pines, you can spot it,
Discreetly, from the first gleams of the night,
Taking the only path that leads to the river.
All the other animals in its path sneak away,
Each time feeling the same eerie omen,
That something is going to happen once again on the edge of the forest,
The doe moves quietly through the woods,
Brushing against the mosses and sniffing the fallen leaves,
The time has finally come for it to stop near the stones.
Dark, red spots form a fresco on the ground,
She raises her head and sees a group of magpies in panic,
The forest gets dark behind her, shrouded in mystery.
The doe is lying down near the pine trees, sheltered from the wind,
lying there, looking at the remains of its evil crime,
The berries were even more delicious than yesterday.
I wanted to create a perfume talking about a doe whose guilty pleasure is food.
The smell of juicy and sweet berries got stuck to its fur while it enjoys its sacrificial altar; the imaginary smoke of incense rises high into the sky.
Juniper Berries, Raspberry, Incense, Labdanum, Amber, Mate, Cedar wood, Sandalwood
If biche criminelle was a song…