The Cemetary of Forgotten Books is a library of mythic proportions in Barcelona, Spain. Too bad it only exists in the series of books set there written by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.
A labyrinth of leather and paper and ink
Of whispers and tales but half-told
The stories that wait here, just biding their time,
May sleep, but will never grow old.
~*~
The air speaks of secrets and riddles by night
And whispers of mystery by day.
Can you find the answer? Come; just close your eyes.
Don't think; let your heart lead the way.
~*~
Your fingertips rustle on leather and dust.
The books are now speaking to you.
They all seem to beg you, "please, just take a peek!
Or, if you would care to, have two!"
~*~
The books speak of treasures that wait for you here:
Just open the cover and see!
Would you prefer romance, or maybe a laugh?
There's one: down a shelf, over three.
~*~
This is a story of brave, daring deeds,
Of princesses, dragons, and kings.
Or this, in the cover of blue velveteen,
Is the tale of a milkmaid who sings.
~*~
Watch out for the one in the cover of brown!
He's elderly, falling apart.
He has a good tale, so be careful with him:
His loss would almost break my heart.
~*~
What is that one which you have in your hand?
Black cloth with a title of gold?
I see it has stood here for many a year
Unopened; looks new though it's old.
~*~
I don't know its story; I saw it but once.
'Twas brought here in secret one night.
The owner was frightened; he hid it back here,
Then fled as if chased by a wight!
~*~
You're welcome to take it, it ought to be read.
It's been hiding here for too long
With no one to love it or re-read the parts
That sound in one's heart like a gong.
~*~
The daylight is fading and you should go home:
Make sure the door's closed when you leave!
It will be open whenever you come, but
One book is enough for this eve.