Sors-tu du gouffre noir ou descends-tu des astres?
Le Destin charmé suit tes jupons comme un chien;
Tu sèmes au hasard la joie et les désastres,
Et tu gouvernes tout et ne réponds de rien.Tu marches sur des morts, Beauté, dont tu te moques;
De tes bijoux l’Horreur n’est pas le moins charmant,
Et le Meurtre, parmi tes plus chères breloques,
Sur ton ventre orgueilleux danse amoureusement.

L’éphémère ébloui vole vers toi, chandelle,
Crépite, flambe et dit: Bénissons ce flambeau!
L’amoureux pantelant incliné sur sa belle
A l’air d’un moribond caressant son tombeau.

Que tu viennes du ciel ou de l’enfer, qu’importe,
Ô Beauté! monstre énorme, effrayant, ingénu!
Si ton oeil, ton souris, ton pied, m’ouvrent la porte
D’un Infini que j’aime et n’ai jamais connu?

De Satan ou de Dieu, qu’importe? Ange ou Sirène,
Qu’importe, si tu rends, — fée aux yeux de velours,
Rythme, parfum, lueur, ô mon unique reine! —
L’univers moins hideux et les instants moins lourds?

Therefore men liken you to wine.

Your eyes hold all the sunset and the dawn, you are

As rich in fragrances as a tempestuous night,

Your kisses are a philtre and your mouth a jar

Filling the child with valor and the man with fright.

Did the stars mould you or the pit’s obscurity?

You bring at random Paradise or Juggernaut.

Fate sniffs your skirts with a charmed dog’s servility,

You govern all and yet are answerable for naught.

Beauty, you walk on corpses of dead men you mock.

Among your store of gems, Horror is not the least;

Murder, amid the dearest trinkets of your stock,

Dances on your proud belly like a ruttish beast.

Candle, the transient moth flies dazzled to your light,

Crackles and flames and says: “Blessèd this fiery doom!”

The panting lover with his mistress in the night

Looks like a dying man caressing his own tomb.

Are you from heaven or hell, Beauty that we adore?

Who cares? A dreadful, huge, ingenuous monster, you!

So but your glance, your smile, your foot open a door

Upon an Infinite I love but never knew.

From Satan or from God? Who cares? Fierce or serene,

Who cares? Sister to sirens or to seraphim?

So but, dark fey, you shed your perfume, rhythm and sheen

To make the world less hideous and Time less grim.