XII
Crenom!
your last word, as it could be mine,
(It shocked those pious sisters in the ward)
Speech, Poetry, the Holy Name, the Word,
Became a grunt, last human act and
sign.
What of it? The butt-end of a harmless oath
Showed, like the glint of your still living eyes,
Not Life, not Death had taken you by surprise:
With love and irony you met them both.
Women you had loved stood smiling by your bed;
Crenom!
you sighed: it was the last caress.
They played you Wagner and again a blurred
Crenom!
q.me like an echo from the Dead.
Crenom!
Name, number, the creating word
Utters the heart's unhesitating: Yes!
XII
Baudelaire : Collection Genies et Realites, Hachette, Paris, 1961,
pp.
262-265.
