Inspired using my very rough — that's an understatement — translation of Charles Baudelaire's La Beauté, the original French version. I only know a little French, and wasn't trying to literally translate it, in case you are wondering how this could possible come about.



Am I beautiful as a river?
If I am, I carry death on tour downstream
It will inspire my poet lovers
Forever on the banks, holding hand with their mothers

Do I dance like a stubborn cat?
He shares one heart with a white goose
Keeps his moves on his side of the line
So that neither gets pleasure or pain

Back to my poets with the large egos
Who hold me roughly, imprinting themselves
Attempting to consume all my days

Of course I prefer the docile love
Between the cat and the graceful bird
Even that doesn't last forever
And always ends with death