Here you will find the Poem The Carcass of poet Charles Baudelaire
Remember that object we saw, dear soul, In the sweetness of a summer morn: At a bend of the path a loathsome carrion On a bed with pebbles strewn, With legs raised like a lustful woman, Burning and sweating poisons, It spread open, nonchalant and scornful, Its belly, ripe with exhalations. The sun shone onto the rotting heap, As if to bring it to the boil, And tender a hundredfold to vast Nature All that together she had joined; And the sky watched that superb carcass Like a flower blossom out. The stench was so strong that on the grass You thought you would pass out. Flies hummed upon the putrid belly, Whence larvae in black battalions spread And like a heavy liquid flowed Along the tatters deliquescing. All together it unfurled, and rose like a wave And bubbling it sprang forth; One might have believed that, with a faint breath filled, The body, multiplying, lived. And this world gave out a strange music Like of running water and of wind, Or of grain in a winnow Rhythmically shaken and tossed. Form was erased and all but a vision, A sketch slow to take shape On a forgotten canvas, which the artist finishes From memory alone. Behind the rocks a fretting bitch Looked at us with fierce mien Anxious to retrieve from the corpse A morsel that she had dropped. Yet to this rot you shall be like, To this horrid corruption, Star of my eyes, sun of desire, You, my angel and my passion! Yes, such you shall be, you, queen of all graces, After the last sacraments, When you go beneath the grass and waxy flowers, To mold among the skeletons. Then, oh my beauty! You must tell the vermin, As it eats you up with kisses, That I have preserved the form and essence divine Of my decayed loves.