In a lofty, almost sneering and ironic tone, Baudelaire claims to speak for the reader as well, acknowledging the universality of vice and ennui before delving into his own particular struggles in much of the rest of the volume. In this poem Baudelaire blends the spiritual and otherworldly with the material and mundane. He weaves his own "mystic crown" but does so with earthly treasures. This crown is a metaphor for "man's sorrow" which is "untouchable by either earth or hell.
This makes a subtle claim about the poet's interstitial role between man and God; he is a translator, an oracle, a visionary. Baudelaire is famous for his evocation of the senses and for his synesthetic melding of them.
When he is able to achieve a moment of transcendence through, say, wandering through nature, staring into the eyes of a woman or a cat, or indulging in music or art, he is elevated above the earthly and begins to experience "perfumes, colors, and sounds" all fusing together. A scent reminds him of a place, a sound reminds him of a color, etc.
It is reminiscent of William Blake's lines from "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell": "If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. Baudelaire speaks freely of his preferred intoxicants—opium, wine, and women. Here he claims a particular woman is capable of satiating him even beyond those "rare wines or opium. He personifies his lusts and his ennuis, suggesting that they are inexorably pulled toward her. There is little hint of autonomy or freedom; he seems unable to tear himself away.
He seems to know that he will never be fully satisfied hence the title of the poem but moves toward her nonetheless. Baudelaire infuses this poem with a great deal of irony. Even these few lines give a hint of that with worms who "cherish" his beloved's body and the idea of "corpses of love.
This is the same thing he says in "The Beacons," calling the art of Michelangelo, Rembrandt, and others the "best witness" of "human dignity. In this poem Baudelaire lies beside a whore but dreams of another woman. His thoughts move to her hair and visage and then, unsurprisingly, to her eyes. Here he refers to them as "soulless," yet enthralling. Eyes for Baudelaire were often ways to look into the beyond, but here the woman of whom he dreams most likely Jeanne Duval has eyes that can only hurt him.
He barely seems to mind, however; he is utterly enraptured by her and will remain enslaved to her ferocious yet soulless presence. Baudelaire is explaining to the devil how he cannot choose just one feature of his beloved as his favorite, and then ends with this statement regarding the beauty in her wholeness.
He says "analytics" are "impotent," meaning taking her apart and examining each piece is impossible. Her grace is in her harmonious way of moving her entire body, and her "numerous accords" fuse into one. January 10, at pm.
January 26, at am. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Google account. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account. Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. All rights reserved. Terms of Use Privacy Policy Welcome to Naxos Records. Keyword Search. Back Cover Image. Your browser does not support the audio element. The Flowers of Evil Spleen and the Ideal — No.
Benediction The Albatross Elevation Correspondences The Beacons The Sick Muse The Venal Muse The Wretched Monk The Enemy Ill Fortune A Former Life Gypsies Travelling Man and the Sea Don Juan in Hell Punishment for Pride Beauty The Ideal The Giantess The Mask Hymn to Beauty The Jewels Exotic Perfume Head of Hair Sed non satiata The Dancing Serpent A Carcass De profundis clamavi The Vampire Lethe Remorse after Death The Cat Duellum The Balcony The Possessed A Phantom Semper eadem Completely One The Living Torch Reversibility Confession The Spiritual Dawn And then the spring's luxuriance Humiliated so my heart That I have pulled a flower apart To punish Nature's insolence.
So I would wish, when you're asleep, The time for sensuality, Towards your body's treasury Silently, stealthily to creep, To bruise your ever-tender breast, And carve in your astonished side An injury both deep and wide, To chastize your too-joyous flesh.
And, sweetness that would dizzy me!
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