The Flowers of Evil 1732 Studios

French · Spleen and Ideal

Le Beau navire

The Fine Ship

40 lines · 18 notes

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  1. 1

    I want to recount to you, O soft enchantress!

    JeIje · pronoun, singularsubject of veux
    veuxwantvouloir · verb, present, indicative, first-person, singularmain verb of the sentence
    teto youte · pronoun, singularindirect object of raconter
    raconterto recountraconter · verb, infinitivecomplement of veux
    ôohô · interjectionvocative marker introducing enchanteresse
    mollesoftmou · adjective, feminine, singularmodifies enchanteresse
    enchanteresseenchantressenchanteresse · noun, feminine, singularvocative, addressed by ô, refers to te
  2. 2

    The various beauties that adorn your youth;

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    I want to paint for you your beauty,

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    Where childhood weds itself to maturity.

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    When you go sweeping the air with your wide skirt,

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    You give the impression of a fine ship putting out to sea,

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    Laden with canvas, and goes rolling on

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    Following a rhythm soft, and lazy, and slow.

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    On your neck wide and round, on your plump shoulders,

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    Your head struts with strange graces;

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    With an air placid and triumphant

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    You go your way, majestic child.

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    I want to recount to you, O soft enchantress!

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    The various beauties that adorn your youth;

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    I want to paint for you your beauty,

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    Where childhood weds itself to maturity.

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    Your bosom that thrusts forward and pushes the watered silk,

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    Your triumphant bosom is a fine cabinet

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    Whose panels, bulging and bright,

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    Like shields, catch flashes of light;

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    Provoking shields, armed with rosy points!

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    Cabinet of sweet secrets, full of good things,

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    Of wines, of perfumes, of liqueurs

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    That would set brains and hearts raving!

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    When you go sweeping the air with your wide skirt

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    You give the impression of a fine ship putting out to sea,

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    Laden with canvas, and goes rolling on

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    Following a rhythm soft, and lazy, and slow.

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    Your noble legs, beneath the flounces they drive,

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    Torment dark desires and tease them,

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    Like two witches who set

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    A black philtre turning in a deep vessel.

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    Your arms, which could make light of precocious Herculeses,

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    Are the sturdy rivals of glistening boas,

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    Made to clasp stubbornly,

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    As if to press him into your heart, your lover.

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    On your neck wide and round, on your plump shoulders,

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    Your head struts with strange graces;

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    With an air placid and triumphant

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    You go your way, majestic child.

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.