Je veux b\u00e2tir pour toi, Madone, ma ma\u00eetresse,
\nUn autel souterrain au fond de ma d\u00e9tresse,
\nEt creuser dans le coin le plus noir de mon c\u0153ur,
\nLoin du d\u00e9sir mondain et du regard moqueur,
\nUne niche, d\u2019azur et d\u2019or tout \u00e9maill\u00e9e,
\nO\u00f9 tu te dresseras, Statue \u00e9merveill\u00e9e.
\nAvec mes Vers polis, treillis d\u2019un pur m\u00e9tal
\nSavamment constell\u00e9 de rimes de cristal,
\nJe ferai pour ta t\u00eate une \u00e9norme Couronne ;
\nEt dans ma Jalousie, \u00f4 mortelle Madone,
\nJe saurai te tailler un Manteau, de fa\u00e7on
\nBarbare, roide et lourd, et doubl\u00e9 de soup\u00e7on,
\nQui, comme une gu\u00e9rite, enfermera tes charmes ;
\nNon de Perles brod\u00e9, mais de toutes mes Larmes !
\nTa Robe, ce sera mon D\u00e9sir, fr\u00e9missant,
\nOnduleux, mon D\u00e9sir qui monte et qui descend,
\nAux pointes se balance, aux vallons se repose,
\nEt rev\u00eat d\u2019un baiser tout ton corps blanc et rose.
\nJe te ferai de mon Respect de beaux Souliers
\nDe satin, par tes pieds divins humili\u00e9s,
\nQui, les emprisonnant dans une molle \u00e9treinte,
\nComme un moule fid\u00e8le en garderont l\u2019empreinte.
\nSi je ne puis, malgr\u00e9 tout mon art diligent,
\nPour Marchepied tailler une Lune d\u2019argent,
\nJe mettrai le Serpent qui me mord les entrailles
\nSous tes talons, afin que tu foules et railles,
\nReine victorieuse et f\u00e9conde en rachats,
\nCe monstre tout gonfl\u00e9 de haine et de crachats.
\nTu verras mes Pensers, rang\u00e9s comme les Cierges
\nDevant l\u2019autel fleuri de la Reine des Vierges,
\n\u00c9toilant de reflets le plafond peint en bleu,
\nTe regarder toujours avec des yeux de feu ;
\nEt comme tout en moi te ch\u00e9rit et t\u2019admire,
\nTout se fera Benjoin, Encens, Oliban, Myrrhe,
\nEt sans cesse vers toi, sommet blanc et neigeux,
\nEn Vapeurs montera mon Esprit orageux.
\nEnfin, pour compl\u00e9ter ton r\u00f4le de Marie,
\nEt pour m\u00ealer l\u2019amour avec la barbarie,
\nVolupt\u00e9 noire ! des sept P\u00e9ch\u00e9s capitaux,
\nBourreau plein de remords, je ferai sept Couteaux
\nBien affil\u00e9s, et, comme un jongleur insensible,
\nPrenant le plus profond de ton amour pour cible,
\nJe les planterai tous dans ton C\u0153ur pantelant,
\nDans ton C\u0153ur sanglotant, dans ton C\u0153ur ruisselant !<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[188],"poems-book":[189],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[190],"class_list":["post-1937","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-188","poems-book-les-fleurs-du-mal","poete-charles-baudelaire"],"yoast_head":"\n