(Baudelaire to Nadar, 1867)

Absolute sky how you confound
Spotless virtue and ruin poets
Bent double with damnation profane

Here, voiceless to the impetus of coming night
I rave and punch upward, mute
But for my tainted crawling eyes.

Satan! Commander of my tongue
Once we played venomous games
Come now! Saturate your hysterical greed.