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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354517" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Blessing</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When, by a decree of the sovereign power, <br>The poet makes his appearance in a bored world,<br>With fists clenched at the horror, his outraged mother<br>Calls on a pitying God, at whom these curses are hurled: <br>&quot;Why was I not made to litter a brood of vipers <br>Rather than conceive this human mockery? <br>My curses on that night whose ephemeral pleasures<br>Filled my womb with this avenging treachery! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Since I must be chosen among all women that are <br>To bear the lifetime's grudge of a sullen husband, <br>And since I cannot get rid of this caricature, <br>--Fling it away like old letters to be burned, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On what you have devised for my punishment <br>I will let all your hate of me rebound, <br>I will torture this stunted growth until its bent </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Branches let fall every blighted bud to the ground!&quot; <br>And so she prepares herself in <br>Hell's pit. A place on the pyre made for a mother's crimes, <br>Blind, in the fury of her foaming hatred, <br>To the meaning and purpose of the eternal designs.<br>Meanwhile, under the care of an unseen angel, <br>The disinherited Child revels in the sun's <br>Bright force; all that he eats and drinks can fill <br>Him with memories of the food that was heaven's. <br>The wind his plaything, any cloud a friend, <br>The Spirit watching can only weep to see <br>How in childhood his way of the cross is lightened </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With the wild bird-song of his innocent gaiety. <br>Those he would love look at him with suspicion <br>Or else, emboldened by his calm, experiment <br>With various possible methods of exciting derision <br>By trying out their cruelty on his complaint. <br>They mix ashes or unspeakable filth with the bread <br>And the wine of his daily communion, drop <br>Whatever he may have touched with affected dread, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And studiously avoid wherever he may step. <br>His mistress, parading her contempt in the street, <br>Cries: &quot;Since he finds my beauty a thing to worship,<br>I will be one of the ancient idols he talks about,<br>And make myself with gold out of the same workshop! <br>I will never have enough of his kneelings and offerings <br>Until I am sure that the choice foods, the wines, <br>The 'nard,' the 'incense,' the 'myrrh' that he brings <br>He brings as other men would to the Virgin's shrines.<br>And when I am sick to death of trying not to laugh <br>At the farce of my black masses, <br>I'll try the force Of the hand he calls 'frail,' my nails will dig a path <br>Like harpies', to the heart that beats for me, of course! <br>Like a nestling trembling and palpitating <br>I will pull that red heart out of his breast <br>And throw it down for my favorite dog's eating </div><div style="margin:10px 0">--Let him do whatever he likes with the rest!&quot; <br>A serene piety, lifting the poet's gaze, <br>Reveals heaven opening on a shining throne, <br>And the lower vision of the world's ravening rage <br>Is shut off by the sheet lightnings of his brain. <br>&quot;Be blessed, oh my God, who givest suffering <br>As the only divine remedy for our folly, <br>As the highest and purest essence preparing </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The strong in spirit for ecstasies most holy. <br>I know that among the uplifted legions <br>Of saints, a place awaits the <br>Poet's arrival, And that among the<br>Powers, Virtues, Dominations </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He too is summoned to Heaven's festival. <br>I know that sorrow is the one human strength <br>On which neither earth nor hell can impose, <br>And that all the universe and all time's length </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Must be wound into the mystic crown for my brows. <br>But all the treasury of buried Palmyra, <br>The earth's unknown metals, the sea's pearls, <br>Mounted by Thy hand, would be deemed an inferior </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Glitter, to his diadem that shines without jewels. <br>For Thou knowest it will be made of purest light <br>Drawn from the holy hearth of every primal ray, <br>To which all human eyes, if they were one bright <br>Eye, are only a tarnished mirror's fading day!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Baudelaire">Charles Baudelaire</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354517" data-title="The Blessing de Charles Baudelaire" data-description="When, by a decree of the sovereign power, 
The poet makes his appearance in a bored world,
With fists clenched at the horror, his outraged mother
Calls on a pitying God, at whom these curses are hurled: 
&quot;Why was I not made to litter a brood ..."></div>
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