The Flowers of Evil 1732 Studios

French · Spleen and Ideal

À une Madone

To a Madonna

45 lines · 9 notes

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    Ex-voto in the Spanish taste

    Ex-votoEx-votoex-voto · noun, masculine, singularhead of the phrase
    dansindans · prepositionpreposition marking goût
    lethele · determiner, masculine, singulardeterminer of goût
    goûttastegoût · noun, masculine, singularmodifies Ex-voto
    espagnolSpanishespagnol · adjective, singularmodifies goût
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    I want to build for you, Madonna, my mistress,

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    an underground altar in the depths of my distress,

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    and to hollow out, in the blackest corner of my heart,

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    far from worldly desire and the mocking gaze,

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    a niche, all enameled in azure and gold,

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    where you will stand erect, a wondering Statue.

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    With my polished Verses, a lattice of pure metal

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    skillfully studded with rhymes of crystal,

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    I will make for your head an enormous Crown;

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    and out of my Jealousy, O mortal Madonna,

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    I will know how to cut you a Mantle, in a fashion

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    barbaric, stiff and heavy, and lined with suspicion,

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    which, like a sentry-box, will shut in your charms,

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    embroidered not with Pearls, but with all my Tears!

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    Your Robe — it will be my Desire, quivering,

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    undulant, my Desire that rises and falls,

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    on the peaks it sways, in the hollows it rests,

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    and clothes with a kiss all your body, white and pink.

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    I will make you, out of my Respect, fair Slippers

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    of satin, humbled by your divine feet,

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    which, imprisoning them in a soft embrace,

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    like a faithful mold will keep their imprint.

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    If I cannot, despite all my diligent art,

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    carve for a Footstool a moon of silver,

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    I will set the Serpent that gnaws my entrails

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    beneath your heels, so that you may trample and mock

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    Queen victorious and fertile in redemptions,

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    that monster all swollen with hatred and with spittle.

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    You will see my Thoughts, ranged like the Candles

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    before the flowered altar of the Queen of Virgins,

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    starring with reflections the ceiling painted blue,

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    to gaze at you forever with eyes of fire;

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    and since all in me cherishes you and admires you,

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    all will turn to Benzoin, Incense, Frankincense, Myrrh,

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    and ceaselessly toward you, white and snowy summit,

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    in Vapors will rise my stormy Spirit.

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    At last, to complete your role as Mary,

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    and to mingle love together with barbarity,

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    black Voluptuousness! out of the seven Deadly Sins,

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    an executioner full of remorse, I will make seven Knives

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    well whetted, and like an unfeeling juggler,

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    taking the deepest of your love for a target,

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    I will plant them all in your panting Heart,

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    in your sobbing Heart, in your streaming Heart!

The particulars

The text
Les Fleurs du mal, Charles Baudelaire. Spleen and Ideal.
Translation
Public-domain French (Baudelaire, d. 1867). English translation © 2026 1732 Studios, LLC.
Words
Every word of the text, by letter.
Data
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