The Death of Artists

Poem by Charles Baudelaire Collection The Flowers of EvilThemes ArtPeriod 19th century

How many times must I shake my bells
And kiss your low forehead, mournful caricature?
To strike the target, of mystic nature,
How many, O my quiver, must I lose javelins?

We shall wear out our soul in subtle plots,
And we shall demolish many a heavy frame,
Before contemplating the great Creature!
Whose infernal desire fills us with sobs!

There are those who have never known their Idol,
And these damned sculptors, marked with an affront,
Who go beating their breast and their brow,

Have only one hope, strange and dark Capitol!
That Death, hovering like a new sun,
Will make the flowers of their brain bloom!

Charles Baudelaire

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