The Flowers of Evil 1732 Studios

French · Spleen and Ideal

L'Irréparable

The Irreparable

50 lines · 29 notes

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  1. 1

    Can we smother the old, the long Remorse,

    Pouvonscanpouvoir · verb, present, indicative, first-person, pluralmain verb of the sentence
    -nouswenous · pronoun, pluralsubject of Pouvons
    étouffersmotherétouffer · verb, infinitivecomplement of Pouvons
    lethele · determiner, masculine, singulardeterminer of Remords
    vieuxoldvieux · adjective, masculine, singularmodifies Remords (in apposition)
    lethele · determiner, masculine, singulardeterminer of Remords
    longlonglong · adjective, masculine, singularmodifies Remords
    RemordsRemorseremords · noun, masculine, singulardirect object of étouffer
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    Which lives, writhes and twists about,

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    And feeds on us as the worm feeds on the dead,

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    as the caterpillar on the oak?

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    Can we smother the implacable Remorse?

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    In what philtre, in what wine, in what herbal brew,

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    Shall we drown this old enemy,

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    Destructive and greedy as the courtesan,

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    patient as the ant?

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    In what philtre? — in what wine? — in what herbal brew?

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    Tell it, fair sorceress, oh! tell, if you know,

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    to this spirit filled to the brim with anguish

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    and like the dying man whom the wounded crush,

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    whom the horse's hoof bruises,

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    Tell it, fair sorceress, oh! tell, if you know,

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    to this dying man already sniffed at by the wolf

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    and watched over by the crow,

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    to this broken soldier! whether he must despair

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    of ever having his cross and his tomb;

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    This poor dying man whom the wolf already scents!

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    Can one light up a muddy and black sky?

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    Can one tear open shadows

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    denser than pitch, with no morning and no evening,

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    with no stars, with no funereal lightning?

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    Can one light up a muddy and black sky?

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    The Hope that shines in the windowpanes of the Inn

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    is blown out, is dead forever!

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    With no moon and no rays, to find where one shelters —

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    the martyrs of an evil road!

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    The Devil has put out every light in the windowpanes of the Inn!

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    Adorable sorceress, do you love the damned?

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    Tell me, do you know the unforgivable?

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    Do you know Remorse, with its poisoned darts,

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    for whom our heart serves as a target?

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    Adorable sorceress, do you love the damned?

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    The Irreparable gnaws with its accursed tooth

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    our soul, a pitiful monument,

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    and often it attacks just as the termite does,

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    the building, from its base.

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    The Irreparable gnaws with its accursed tooth!

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    — I have sometimes seen, at the back of a humdrum theatre

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    which the resounding orchestra set ablaze,

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    a fairy kindle, in an infernal sky,

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    a miraculous dawn;

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    I have sometimes seen, at the back of a humdrum theatre,

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    A being who was nothing but light, gold and gauze,

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    strike down the enormous Satan;

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    But my heart, which ecstasy never visits,

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    is a theatre where one waits

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    always, always in vain, for the Being with wings of gauze!

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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Two whoopie pies and a pine. An inside joke.