A review by michaelwong
The Flowers of Evil by Charles Baudelaire

4.0

"torn from his native space, this captive king/Flounders upon the deck in stricken pride,/And pitiably lets his great white wing/Drag like a havy padde at his side." p. 10

"Even a bureau crammed with souveniers,/Old bills, love letters, photographs, receipts,/Court depositions, locks of hair in plaits,/Hides fewer secrets than my brain could yield." p. 91