They are all the tendencies and aspirations that pull and tear the human being on the high altar of life. They are horrible and beautiful, dark and bright, contradictory and valid. The height, depth, and expansive views are impossible, to sum up here. Imposer tous les temps et tous les univers.» Je sais que la douleur est la noblesse unique Je sais que vous gardez une place au Poèteĭans les rangs bienheureux des saintes Légions, «Soyez béni, mon Dieu, qui donnez la souffranceĬomme un divin remède à nos impuretés
But would he have given birth to this work if he had lived another life? He would not have had the pain, the "mud", essential for any artist worthy of the name to produce a noble work and to want to embrace the universal in transcendence: He was a humiliated being who did not have a life, it is said, to the extent of his genius. The deep cries of revolt and the despair that rise from these refined stanzas give them a blackness of a particular brilliance so fascinating and frightening. A secret solemnity swirls like curls of smoke throughout these pages simultaneously as the restrained animality scolds, shaking its chains. In the crucible of his soul, gravity and lightness intermingle in a subtle and skillful dosage. Painter of passions with underground vibrations and sublime disenchantment, Baudelaire is parred excellence the alchemist of despair. This poem will always make me shiver with indescribable and exhilarating ecstasy. Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige.» «Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige ! Then, weeks later, still echo in my ears in deep echoes the dizzying verses of "Harmonie du Soir": When I immerse myself in it, I feel the sensations of a descent into catacombs and those of a mystical elevation. It is the only book of poetry that has had such a lasting effect on me.
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