The Flowers of Evil 1732 Studios

French · Spleen and Ideal

Le Balcon

The Balcony

30 lines · 13 notes

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    Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses,

    Mèremothermère · noun, feminine, singularhead of the phrase
    desofde · prepositionpreposition marking souvenirs
    souvenirsmemoriessouvenir · noun, masculine, pluralmodifies Mère
    maîtressemistressmaîtresse · noun, feminine, singularin apposition to Mère
    desofde · prepositionpreposition marking maîtresses
    maîtressesmistressesmaîtresse · noun, feminine, pluralmodifies maîtresse
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    O you, all my pleasures! O you, all my duties!

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    You will recall the beauty of our caresses,

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    the sweetness of the hearth and the charm of evenings,

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    Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses!

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    The evenings lit by the glow of the coals,

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    and the evenings on the balcony, veiled in rose-coloured mists.

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    How sweet your breast was to me! how kind your heart!

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    We often said imperishable things

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    on the evenings lit by the glow of the coals.

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    How beautiful the suns are in the warm evenings!

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    How deep is space! how mighty is the heart!

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    Leaning toward you, queen of the adored,

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    I thought I breathed in the perfume of your blood.

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    How beautiful the suns are in the warm evenings!

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    The night was thickening like a partition wall,

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    and my eyes in the dark made out your pupils,

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    and I drank your breath, O sweetness! O poison!

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    and your feet fell asleep in my brotherly hands.

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    The night was thickening like a partition wall.

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    I know the art of conjuring up the happy minutes,

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    and relive my past, nestled against your knees.

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    For what good is it to seek your languorous beauties

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    anywhere but in your dear body and your heart so sweet?

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    I know the art of conjuring up the happy minutes!

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    These vows, these perfumes, these infinite kisses,

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    will they be reborn from a gulf forbidden to our soundings,

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    as the rejuvenated suns mount to the sky

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    after having washed themselves in the depths of the deep seas?

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    — O vows! O perfumes! O infinite kisses!

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
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Two whoopie pies and a pine. An inside joke.