" Flowers of Evil " - On gambling

[ "In faded armchairs aged courtesans, Pale, eyebrows penciled, with alluring fatal eyes, Smirking and sending forth from wizened ears A jingling sound of metal and of gems; Around the gaming tables faces without lips, Lips without color and jaws without teeth, Fingers convulsed with a hellborn fever Searching empty pockets and fluttering bosoms; Under dirty ceilings a row of bright lusters And enormous oil-lamps casting their rays On the tenebrous brows of distinguished poets Who come there to squander the blood they have sweated; That is the black picture that in a dream one night I saw unfold before my penetrating eyes. I saw myself at the back of that quiet den, Leaning on my elbows, cold, silent, envying, Envying the stubborn passion of those people, The dismal merriment of those old prostitutes, All blithely selling right before my eyes, One his ancient honor, another her beauty! My heart took fright at its envy of so many Wretches running fiercely to the yawning chasm, Who, drunk with their own blood, would prefer, in a word, Suffering to death and hell to nothingness! " ]