"To the reader" "Stupidity, Error, Sin, Skimping, Make our spirits busy and work on our bodies, And we entertain our nice remorses, As beggars entertain their filth. Our sins are stubborn, our repents are cowardly We make big money paying the bill of our confessions, And we cheerfully make our ways back into the muddy path, Believing that, with vile tears, we could clean all our bad things up. On the pillow of Evil, it' s Trismagistic* Satan (<-didn't find the equvalent term in engish>) That slowly bounces our enchanted souls And the wealthy metal of our willingness Is all sprayed by this scientist chemist. It's the Devil that holds the wire that make us shake. Some repugnant affairs we find attractive and great style; Everyday one more step closer to Hell we go down. Not even horrified, through some stinking Darkness depths. As a Debauched Poor that only fucks and eats At the tormented breast of an ancient Whore, We rob, while we are there, a clandestine pleasure That we squeeze very hard like an old orange. Tight, swarming like millions Helmenthisises,(-didn't find the equivalent term in english>) In our brains, a people of demons are sniggering, And when we breathe, Death in our lungs Goes down, invisible stream, with dully Moans. If rape, violation, poison, dagger, flames, Have not yet embroidered, with their nice drawings, The banal canvas of our pitiful destinies, It is because our souls, alas, are not daring enough. But among the jackals, the panthers, the louses, The monkeys, the scorpions, the vultures, the snakes, The yapping monsters, the screaming, the growling, the crawling ones, In the despicable chaotic menagerie of our vices, ..There is an uglier one, a meaner one, more vile! Although doesn't give any big gesture, neither any loud scream, He would turn with pleasure the Earth into ruins And in a huge yawning would swallow the whole world..." (Add: ->..And then, it seems_I say:"It seems", not affirming anything with certitude, but cencorship & taboos, for sure, already existed long ago, no onecan deny it,...althouggh I read something about this very "hard" poem_that the poet was censored, oreither self-censored himself, and so that the final word that was published was...:) It's Boredom!!!- The eye loaded by an unwilling tear, He's dreaming of gallows while he smokes his hooka.() You know him very well, reader, this delicate monster, Hypocritical reader, my fellow man, my brother!" ____________________________________ _ Translated by me this morning from french poet Charles Baudelaire's poem called in french: "Au lecteur" _I know it doesn't rhyme, but I did my best to make it understood by all. Baudelaire was a huge poet writer with strong & beautiful, sometimes very hard & dark words, at least for the puritain XIXth Century Time. nikabruzi.