Charles Baudelaire, "L'Invitation au Voyage," Les Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil), 1857.

 
My child, my sister,
Dream of the sweetness
Of journeying down there to live together!
To love at leisure,
To love and die
In the land which resembles you!
The watery suns
In threatening skies
Have for my soul the charms
So mysterious
Of your treacherous eyes
Shining through their tears.
 
 

There, there is nothing but order and beauty,
Luxury, calm, and sensual pleasure.
 

Gleaming furniture,
Polished by the years,
Would decorate our chamber;
The rarest flowers
Mingling their perfumes
With vague scents of amber,
Opulent ceilings,
Mirrors profound,
Splendor of the East:
All would speak
To the soul in secret
In her sweet mother tongue.
 

There, there is nothing but order and beauty,
Luxury, calm, and sensual pleasure.
 

See on the canals
Sleeping vessels (i.e., with furled sails),
Whose inclination is vagabond;
It is to satisfy
Your least desire
That they have journeyed here from the end of the world.
-- The low setting suns
Clothe the fields,
The canals, the entire city,
In hyacinth and gold;
As the world falls asleep
In a hot light.
There, there is nothing but order and beauty,
Luxury, calm, and sensual pleasure.