Charles Baudelaire. The flowers of evil (№ 419289)

To pay tribute, to you by fate
Two fields are given, man;
You've been the steel of reason all ages.
They should be cut like a ploy.
To ear rye or rose bush
Grow up in this meager field,
You have to pour as much as you can.
To the ground of bitter, dirty tears.
Art and Love - those nivas! -
A terrible hour will strike, and here it is.
Fate to you, O lazy slave,
He will pronounce his sentence.
At that hour prepare barns of bread,
Cats are lush flowers,
That the fruits of your labors
The choir of Angels glorified from heaven!