Two warriors have run one into the other; their weapons
Have splashed the air with glimmers and with blood.
This game, this clink of iron is the din
Of youth preyed upon by keening love.

The swords are broken! Like our youth,
My dear. But the sharp nails, the teeth gnashing,
Will avenge the traitor epee and dagger's tooth.
—O fury of hearts ripe with ulcers of passion!

In the haunted ravine where ocelots and snow leopards gambol
Our heroes, in seizures of wickedness, have rolled,
And their pelts will be flowers to decorate the brambles.

—This gulch, this is hell, with our friends it is peopled!
Roll in it without remorse, inhuman amazon
So that the ardor of our hatred is never gone.

Source: Baudelaire. "The Duel (Duellum)". Trans. William A. Sigler. The Flowers Of Sickness And Evil By Charles Baudelaire (6 February 2000). http://home.carolina.rr.com/alienfamily/35.htm. Accessed 16 December 2002.