by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE
Translated from the French by LASHA DARKMOON
One midnight, appalling and drear,
You will lie under your headstone:
Your beautiful corpse, my dear,
In its house of gravel and bone.
When the chaste stars languish and droop
Their eyes at the coming of dawn,
There the spider will weave his web,
There the viper will breed her spawn.
There night after night you will hear,
Like the hounds of hell in your ear,
The wolf and his harrowing howl.
There the raddled harlot will lurk
And the dirty old man will jerk
And the plotter of crimes will prowl.