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Baudelaire : TOUT ENTIÈRE

This morning the Demon came
To me in my high chamber,
And, trying to catch me at fault,
Said to me : "I would like to know,

Among all the fine things
That make up her allure,
Among the black or pink objects
That compose her charming body,

Which is the sweetest?" O my soul!
You responded to the Abhorred :
"Since in her all is as a dittany,
Nothing can hold preference.

When all ravishes me, I ignore
If one thing should seduce.
She dazzles like the Aurora
And consoles like the Night ;

The harmony that governs her
Beautiful form is too exquisite
For any impotent analysis to
Note its numerous accords.

O mystic metamorphosis
Of all my senses melted into one!
Her breathing makes music,
As her voice makes perfume!"