"In repugnant things we discover charms"
(To the Reader)

"I shall suck, to drown my rancor,
Nepenthe and the good hemlock
From the charming tips of those pointed breasts
That have never guarded a heart."
(Le Léthé, translated by William Aggeler)

Daring for an 1857 collection (some of the poems were known even before that), this is full of death and decay, breasts and voluptuous lips, wine and opium. There are occasional rays of the sun, but mostly the verses are about the deepest depths of sexuality and the smell of tombs. The section Tableu Parisiens includes prostitutes, gamblers, vagabonds, beggars, and overall criticism of clean 19th century French modernity. Some of those poems were dedicated to Victor Hugo.

Baudelaire's women are unreachable goddesses, sweet lovers, cunning seductresses who claw your heart out. The poems take you on a spin of dark dreams, the fumes of drunkenness, the cruel passing of time and beauty. Even the most beautiful woman will eventually become a rotting corpse. Une Martyre might have been about necrophilia. Which, you know, I don't condone, but as a poem it was pretty damn beautiful (and perhaps slightly icky). Wouldn't want to get lost in Baudelaire's thoughts for days on end, but as a work of art this exceeded all my expectations. Decadence has a well deserved place in literature, although it might not be for everyone. Délicieux!

Read in fleursdumal.org