And this is my second translation from Baudelaire's Fleurs du Mal:
Very Far From Here
by C. Baudelaire
This is the sacred chamber where
That much bejeweled maiden fair
Tranquil and ever-ready there
Raising her breasts to the skies aloft
Hears the drainpipes crying oft.
It is the room of Dorothy,
Then breeze and the water sing to her then
Their song of sighs contradictory,
Caressing her so soothingly.
From tip to toe, her delicate skin
Is drenched and rubbed so carefully
With sweet-smelling oil and benzoin.
Some flowers wither in a bin.
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