TRANSLATIONS FROM BAUDELAIRE 5I 
 
Who knowest all, of under earth the king, 
Familiar healer of man’s suffering ! 
 
O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! 
 
Who to the leper, even the cursed pariah, 
Hast taught by love the taste of heavenly fire ! 
 
O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! 
 
Thou who on Death, thine old and strong leman, 
Begottest Hope—a charming madwoman ! 
 
O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! 
 
Who knowest in which caves of envious lands 
God has hid precious stones with jealous hands ! 
 
O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! 
 
Thou whose clear eye discerns the arsenals deep, 
Where the small folk of buried metals sleep ! 
 
O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! 
 
Whose broad hand hides the giddy precipice 
From sleepers straying about some edifice ! 
 
O Satan, have pity of my long misery ! 
 
Whose skill makes supple the old bones, at needs, 
Of the belated sot, ’mid surging steeds ! 
 
O Satan, have pity of my long misery !