Home Categories Poetry and Opera Selected Poems of Baudelaire

Chapter 3 sick poet

Poor Poetry God, why does he look like this now? Your sunken eyes are filled with phantoms of night, I see your face alternately changing Terror, fanaticism, indifference and silence. Green daemon and red phantom, Did they pot you with terror and love? who once forced you into the depths of the legendary swamp, Is it your nightmare of clenched fists of rebellion? I would like to spread the fragrance of health, Surrounding the heart of your strong mind, Your Christian blood flows rhythmically, like the harmony of ancient syllables, There the fathers of poetry reign in turn Phoebus and Pan the kings of the harvest.

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