Charles Baudelaire. The flowers of evil (№ 419288)

Happy child! Why do you burn with desire?
To see France pierced by suffering,
Where people live closely; why your fate
Hurry to hand over to the hands of the rowers and the ship,
Say goodbye forever to your favorite tamarin?
Half-dressed, under a ghostly muslin,
Trembling from the cold and blizzard of snow,
You will remember the past and the free land of the native;
And your free torso will be squeezed by the vise of the corset,
You will trade yourself - and for it
In the dens of the city shelter you will found your own,
Coconut trees are looking for in the mist of raw!