The Flowers of Evil ~ Lesbos

Mother of the Saturnalia and the Epicure,
Lesbos, where the kisses are as fresh as canteloupes,
And hot like the sun, pining in languor,
Making the days glorious and the nights grace-notes,
Mother of the Saturnalia and the Epicure,

Lesbos, where the kisses are like cataracts
Thrown without fear to the bottomless pits
And flowing, sobbing and cackling through cracks,
Swarming and restless, yawning and secret;
Lesbos, where the kisses are like cataracts!

Lesbos, where the Phrynés go down on each other,
Where there's never a sigh without an echo,
The equal of Paphos, admired by the stars,
And Venus, with good reason, jealous of Sappho!
Lesbos, where the Phrynés go down on each other,

Lesbos, where the nights are hot and gentle,
Full of sensuality, sterile and slippery,
As the girls with hollow eyes, their bodies in love, pull
And caress the ripe fruits of their nubility;
Lesbos, where the nights are hot and gentle,

Let old Plato wrinkle his austere brow;
You earn forgiveness from the excess of kisses,
Queen of the soft empire, pleasant and noble ground,
Where refinements are always limitless.
Let old Plato wrinkle his austere brow.

You earn forgiveness from the eternal martyr,
To ambitious hearts you ceaselessly tantalize,
The radiant smile that lures us from afar
Glimpsed vaguely at the edge of other skies!
You earn forgiveness from the eternal martyr!

Who of the Gods would dare, Lesbos, to be your judge,
And to condemn your face grown pale from work,
If their balances of gold did not weigh the floods
Of tears that poured to the sea from your brooks?
Who of the Gods would dare, Lesbos, to be your judge?

Who needs the laws of the just and the unjust?
Virgins of the sublime heart, honor of the Archipelago,
Your religion is as majestic as the rest,
And love will be laughed at in the Sky and Hell below!
Who needs the laws of the just and the unjust?

For from all who are called Lesbos chose me
To sing the secret of its virgins in flowers,
And I was as a child admitted to the black mystery
Of unrestrained laughter mixed with dark tears;
For from all who are called Lesbos chose me.

And since then I've kept a vigil on the summit of Leucate,
Like a sentinel with eyes piercing and sure,
Who watches night and day brig, tartan or frigate,
Whose distant forms shiver in the azure;
And since then I've kept a vigil on the summit of Leucate,

To know if the sea is indulgent and kind,
And among the sobs that resound on the rock
One evening, on its way toward Lesbos, to find
The adored corpse of Sappho, forgiven, come back
And know if the sea is indulgent and kind!

Manly Sappho, lover and poet,
In her mournful pallor more beautiful than Venus!
—The eye of azure is overcome by her black eye that shows within it
The flecks of a circle darkened by sadness
Manly Sappho, lover and poet!

—More beautiful than Venus drawing herself across the Earth
And pouring her serenity's treasure
And the radiance of her fair youth
On the old Ocean, her enchanted daughter;
More beautiful than Venus drawing herself across the Earth!

—Of Sappho who died the day of her blasphemy,
When, insulting the rite and the invented religion,
She made the supreme fodder of her beautiful body
For a brute whose pride punishes the sin
Of one who died the day of her blasphemy.

And it's from this time that Lesbos mourns,
And, in spite of the honors that return the universe to her,
She is elated each night by the cry of the storms
That push toward the skies its deserted shores.
And it's from this time that Lesbos mourns!

~ Charles Baudelaire