puts in thee — Nature! — all his gloom!
what says to this man: lo! the tomb!
cries: life and splendour! to his brother.
o mage unknown whose powers assist
my art, and whom I always fear,
thou makest me a Midas — peer
of that most piteous alchemist;
for 'tis through thee I turn my gold
to iron, and in heaven behold
my hell: beneath her cloud-palls I
uncover corpses loved of old;
and where the shores celestial die
I carve vast tombs against the sky.
—Charles Baudelaire, in translation Lewis Piaget Shanks
