The Litanies to Satan
wisest and fairest of the Angels young,
o -god- lord whom fate betrayed and left unsung,
o exiled Prince borne down by many lies,
who, vanquished, ever mightier dost arise,
o thou who knowest all things, who dost reign
in nether worlds, who healest all men’s pain,
thou who to pariahs and lepers dost
reveal, through love, the heaven they have lost,
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
Satan, have pity on my long despair !
Satan, have pity on my long despair !
thou who with Death, that old and mighty trull,
begot us Hope, so mad, so beautiful!
o thou who gives bandits, doomed to die,
the brows which damn a nation, standing nigh,
o though who knowest in what crabbed zones
of earth, God locked away the precious stones,
o thou whose clear eye sees through the deep dark walls
where sleep the metals’ buried arsenals,
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
o thou whose hands upon the housetop keep
the abysses veiled from those who walk in sleep,
o thou who savest from the horses’ feet
the poor old drunkard fallen in the street,
o thou who showest suffering mortals how
to mix the salts and sulphur — blessèd thou
thou who dost brand in subtle friendliness
the brows of rich men base and merciless,
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
Satan, have pity on my long despair!
o thou who hussies’ eyes and bosoms chill
with lust of blood and love of rags dost fill,
staff of the exiled, torch inventors woo,
confessor of the gallows’ plotting crew,
o foster-father of us all, who share
God’s primal curse, and lost our Eden there,
By Charles Baudelaire and Lewis Piaget Shanks
