The sun is covered with a crepe. You have, as he,
O Moon of my existence! Wrapped yourself in shade;
Asleep or smoking, as you wish, be still, be sad,
Engulfed entirely in a chasm of Ennui.
I love you as you are! But, if you wish today,
Like stars in an eclipse escaping the penumbra,
To walk with pride in places Folly must encumber,
So be it! Charming dagger, lay your sheath away!
Strike fire into your eyes from flames in chandeliers!
Strike fire into the lust of loutish cavaliers!
To me you are all pleasure: morbid, petulant;
Black night, red dawn, be what you ever wish to be;
Within my trembling body not one filament
But cries: Beloved Beelzebub, I worship thee!
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)
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