THE SPIRITUAL DAWN

by: Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)

hen the morning white and rosy breaks,

With the gnawing Ideal, upon the debauchee,

By the power of a strange decree,

Within the sotted beast an Angel wakes.




The mental Heaven's inaccessible blue,

For wearied mortals that still dream and mourn,

Expands and sinks; towards the chasm drawn.

Thus, cherished goddess, Being pure and true—




Upon the rests of foolish orgy-nights

Thine image, more sublime, more pink, more clear,

Before my staring eyes is ever there.




The sun has darkened all the candle lights;

And thus thy spectre like the immortal sun,

Is ever victorious—thou resplendent one!

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