#a carrion

[charnel-grounds]

Gustav Adolf Mossa (1883–1971)

“Une charogne” (The Corpse), 1906

“Then, O Belovèd, whisper to the worm That crawls up to devour you with a kiss, That I still guard in memory the dear form Of love that comes to this!”

— Charles Baudelaire

[fragranceonthefeuille]

Une Charogne by Charles Baudelaire

A Carrion

Do you remember the thing we saw, my soul, That summer morning, so beautiful, so soft: At a turning in the path, a filthy carrion, On a bed sown with stones,

Legs in the air, like a lascivious woman, Burning and sweating poisons, Opened carelessly, cynically, Its great fetid belly.

The sun shone on this fester, As though to cook it to a turn, And to return a hundredfold to great Nature What she had joined in one;

And the sky saw the superb carcass Open like a flower. The stench was so strong, that you might think To swoon away upon the grass.

The flies swarmed on that rotten belly, Whence came out black battalions Of spawn, flowing like a thick liquid Along its living tatters.

All this rose and fell like a wave, Or rustled in jerks; One would have said that the body, fun of a loose breath, Lived in this its procreation.

And this world gave out a strange music, Like flowing water and wind, Or a winnower's grain that he shakes and turns With rhythmical grace in his basket.

The forms fade and are no more than a dream, A sketch slow to come On the forgotten canvas, and that the artist completes Only by memory.

Behind the boulders an anxious bitch Watched us with angry eyes, Spying the moment to regain in the skeleton The morsel she had dropped.

— And yet you will be like this excrement, This horrible stench, O star of my eyes, sun of my being, You, my angel, my passion.

Yes, such you will be, queen of gracefulness, After the last sacraments, When you go beneath the grasses and fat flowers, Moldering amongst the bones.

Then, my beauty, say to the vermin Which will eat you with kisses, That I have kept the shape and the divine substance Of my decomposed loves!

— Geoffrey Wagner, Selected Poems of Charles Baudelaire (NY: Grove Press, 1974)

Une Charogne

Rappelez-vous l'objet que nous vîmes, mon âme, Ce beau matin d'été si doux: Au détour d'un sentier une charogne infâme Sur un lit semé de cailloux,

Les jambes en l'air, comme une femme lubrique, Brûlante et suant les poisons, Ouvrait d'une façon nonchalante et cynique Son ventre plein d'exhalaisons.

Le soleil rayonnait sur cette pourriture, Comme afin de la cuire à point, Et de rendre au centuple à la grande Nature Tout ce qu'ensemble elle avait joint;

Et le ciel regardait la carcasse superbe Comme une fleur s'épanouir. La puanteur était si forte, que sur l'herbe Vous crûtes vous évanouir.

Les mouches bourdonnaient sur ce ventre putride, D'où sortaient de noirs bataillons De larves, qui coulaient comme un épais liquide Le long de ces vivants haillons.

Tout cela descendait, montait comme une vague Ou s'élançait en pétillant; On eût dit que le corps, enflé d'un souffle vague, Vivait en se multipliant.

Et ce monde rendait une étrange musique, Comme l'eau courante et le vent, Ou le grain qu'un vanneur d'un mouvement rythmique Agite et tourne dans son van.

Les formes s'effaçaient et n'étaient plus qu'un rêve, Une ébauche lente à venir Sur la toile oubliée, et que l'artiste achève Seulement par le souvenir.

Derrière les rochers une chienne inquiète Nous regardait d'un oeil fâché, Epiant le moment de reprendre au squelette Le morceau qu'elle avait lâché.

— Et pourtant vous serez semblable à cette ordure, À cette horrible infection, Etoile de mes yeux, soleil de ma nature, Vous, mon ange et ma passion!

Oui! telle vous serez, ô la reine des grâces, Apres les derniers sacrements, Quand vous irez, sous l'herbe et les floraisons grasses, Moisir parmi les ossements.

Alors, ô ma beauté! dites à la vermine Qui vous mangera de baisers, Que j'ai gardé la forme et l'essence divine De mes amours décomposés!

— Charles Baudelaire

See also:

Chagone by Etat Libre d'Orange with notes of lily accord, bergamot, ginger, ylang ylang, jasmine, lily of the valley, pink berries, ambrette absolute, leather, animal notes, incense, vanilla…

Described as

"The skin is soft and warmed, yet in some spots almost transparent. Opalescent lily. Forsaking flirtation and prudery, the beauty reveals her inner self, daring to expose herself as she truly is, superlatively nude. It is the perfect moment. Ripe flesh awaiting to be picked. Undaunted, she casts aside the urge and it is now in complete silence that the fatal attraction operates.

 A docile, consenting victim. The beast is actually not far away. He lies in ambush and, as the fine connoisseur he is, anticipates the moment he will take possession of her essence. For him this prey is named desire and he assesses her fully-fledged femininity. The fragrance soars. We are nearly there. It is soon the time when the heart will liquefy and shed its vanilla notes, when leather will melt into a balm and when an unrecognizable anatomy will deliver its precious, sunbathed and uplifting aromas. Blissful pestilence. Believe in the beast, this embrace has the taste of eternity.

How could one do without it?"

For those with JSTOR access, see Cherly Krueger's "The Scent Trail of 'Une Charogne'"