Baudelaire fun

A translation of Une Charogne by Charles Baudelaire,

CARRION

Do you remember that thing we saw, my love,
on this sweet summer morning?
On the edge of the path, a nasty carrion,
on a bed of stone was lying.

Legs up like a lustful woman,
burning and sweating its poisons
Casually and cynically had opened
its belly full of exhalations.

The sun, on the decay was casting its rays
as if to cook it nicely,
to give back to Nature by hundreds
what she had put back together formerly

And the sky was looking down on the carcass
that was blooming like a flower.
The smell was so strong that on the grass
you almost fainted, my dear.

The flies were humming on the putrid belly,
out of which came black swarms of worms
oozing out in a thick liquid
along the living rags.

All of this was going up and down like a wave
or ascending and crackling,
it looked like the corpse, swollen by a breath
was still living and multiplicating.

This world was playing a strange music
like the running water or the wind
or the grain that the winnower tosses
in rhythm, in his sieve.

The shapes were vanishing just like a dream,
a sketch slow to appear
on the forgotten canvas that the artist seems
to finish only in wonder.

Behind the rocks a worried dog
with an angry eye was looking at us
waiting to retrieve from the skeleton
the piece it had let go of.

And yet, you will be similar to this filth,
to this hideous infection,
you the sun of my world, the stars of my eyes,
my angel, my passion!

Yes, you will be such, you the queen of graces,
after the last sacraments
when you will go down under the earth
molding among the remains.

So, my beauty, tell the worms
that will eat you with kisses
that of my decayed love
i kept the shape and essence.