The Flowers of Evil 1732 Studios

French · Revolt

Les Litanies de Satan

The Litanies of Satan

52 lines · 15 notes

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  1. 1

    O you, the most learned and the most beautiful of Angels,

    ÔOô · interjectionvocative particle
    toiyoutoi · pronounhead of the phrase
    lethele · determiner, masculine, singulardeterminer in superlative le plus savant
    plusmostplus · adverbmodifies savant
    savantlearnedsavant · adjective, masculine, singularin apposition to toi
    etandet · conjunctionlinks the coordination
    lethele · determiner, masculine, singulardeterminer in superlative le plus beau
    plusmostplus · adverbmodifies beau
    beaubeautifulbeau · adjective, masculine, singularcoordinated with savant
    desof thede · prepositionpreposition marking Anges
    AngesAngelsange · noun, masculine, pluraldepends on beau/savant
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    a God betrayed by fate and stripped of praises,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    O Prince of exile, to whom a wrong was done

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    and who, vanquished, always raise yourself up stronger,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You who know all, great king of subterranean things,

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    familiar healer of human anguishes,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You who, even to the lepers, to the accursed pariahs,

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    teach through love the taste of Paradise,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    O you who, on Death, your old and mighty mistress,

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    begot Hope — a charming madwoman!

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You who give the outlaw that calm and lofty gaze

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    that damns a whole people around a scaffold.

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You who know in what corners of the grudging earth

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    the jealous God hid the precious stones,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You whose clear eye knows the deep arsenals

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    where the people of the metals lies buried asleep,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You whose broad hand hides the precipices

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    from the sleepwalker wandering at the edge of the buildings,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You who, by magic, make supple again the old bones

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    of the belated drunkard trampled by the horses,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You who, to console the frail man who suffers,

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    taught us to mix saltpetre and sulphur,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You who set your mark, O subtle accomplice,

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    on the brow of the pitiless and base Croesus,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    You who put into the eyes and into the heart of girls

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    the cult of the wound and the love of rags,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    Staff of the exiled, lamp of the inventors,

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    confessor of the hanged and of the conspirators,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    Adoptive father of those whom, in his black wrath,

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    God the Father drove out of the earthly paradise,

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    O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

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    Prayer

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    Glory and praise to you, Satan, in the heights

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    of Heaven, where you reigned, and in the depths

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    of Hell, where, vanquished, you dream in silence!

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    Grant that my soul, one day, beneath the Tree of Knowledge,

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    may rest near you, at the hour when upon your brow

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    its boughs, like a new Temple, will spread wide!

The particulars

The text
Les Fleurs du mal, Charles Baudelaire. Revolt.
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.