Charles Baudelaire

“My love, do you recall the object which we saw,
That fair, sweet, summer morn!
At a turn in the path a foul carcass
On a gravel strewn bed,

Its legs raised in the air, like a lustful woman,
Burning and dripping with poisons,
Displayed in a shameless, nonchalant way
Its belly, swollen with gases.

- A Carcass


Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal
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Les Fleurs du Mal Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire
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