Original Title: "Tu mettrais l'univers"
Text: Charles Baudelaire
You'd put the whole universe in your alleyway
Impure woman! Boredom makes your soul cruel.
To exercise your teeth to this singular game,
You need every day one heart to your rack.
Your eyes, lit up like shops
And blazing yew trees in public feasts,
Blatantly use of a feigned power,
Without ever knowing the law of their beauty.
Blind and deaf machine, fertile in cruelties!
Salutary instrument, drinker of the blood of the world,
How aren't you ashamed and how haven't you,
In front of all mirrors, seen your charmes fade?
The greatness of that ill where you believe yourself skilful
never then has made you back away in terror,
When nature, tall in its hidden design,
Uses you, oh woman, oh queen of sins,
- Of you, vile animal, - to knead a genius?
Oh miry greatness! Magnificent ignominy!