The Flowers of Evil

When by the changeless Power of a Supreme Decree The poet issues forth upon this sorry sphere, His mother, horrified, and full of blasphemy, Uplifts her voice to God, who takes compassion on her.

“Ah, why did I not bear a serpent’s nest entire, Instead of bringing forth this hideous Child of Doom! Oh cursèd be that transient night of vain desire When I conceived my expiation in my womb!”

“Yet since among all women thou hast chosen me To be the degradation of my jaded mate, And since I cannot like a love-leaf wantonly Consign this stunted monster to the glowing grate,”

“I’ll cause thine overwhelming hatred to rebound Upon the cursèd tool of thy most wicked spite. Forsooth, the branches of this wretched tree I’ll wound And rob its pestilential blossoms of their might!”