Here is the translation of Charles Baudelaire’s poem “A View of Paris” into English:
With contented heart, I climbed the mountain
Whence one can contemplate the city in its vastness,
Hospital, brothels, purgatory, hell, prison,
Where every enormity blooms like a flower.
You know well, O Satan, patron of my distress,
That I did not go there to shed a vain tear;
But like an old lecher with an old mistress,
I wanted to intoxicate myself with the enormous strumpet
Whose infernal charm rejuvenates me endlessly.
Whether you still sleep in the morning sheets,
Heavy, obscure, sniffling, or whether you parade
In evening veils trimmed with fine gold,
I love you, O infamous capital! Courtesans
And bandits, often you offer pleasures
That the vulgar profane cannot understand.
— Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)