Praises For My Francisca

A poem by Charles Baudelaire

With new chords I'll sing your praises,
Little shoot, because you dally
In the heart's sweet solitude.

Be into a garland woven,
o my captivating woman
Through whom sins are all absolved!

As I would obliging Lethe,
Let me freely sip your kisses,
So magnetically imbued.

When the storm of all my vices
Put in peril all my pathways,
You, Divinity, appeared,

As redeeming as the Lodestar,
Saviour in our bitter shipwrecks...
On your altar hangs my heart!

Lovely pool that fills with virtue,
Of eternal youth the fountain,
Bring my silent lips to speech!

You have purified the filthy
And have smoothed out all the rudeness,
What was weak, you have made strong.

In my hunger, you're the tavern,
In the darkness, you're my lantern
Guide me always in the right.

Now add potency to mankind,
Wholesome bath that is anointed
With the most entrancing scents!

Gleam around my loins and guard them
O thou corselet of virtue
Made of water angel-dyed;

Drinking bowl that gleams with gemstones,
Salted bread and tender morsel,
My Francisca, heaven's wine!

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