Flowers of Evil

This is a great poem I found online by Baudelaire. It's kinda spooky..

Punishment of Pride In these marvellous times when
Theology Flowers with the most sap and of energy,
One tells that one day a doctor of largest, --
After having forced the indifferent hearts;
To have stirred up in their black depths;
After having crossed towards celestial glories Of the singular ways to itself unknown,
Where the Pure spirits only perhaps had come, --
As an assembled man too high, taken of panic, exclaimed, transported of a satanic pride:
"Jesus, Baby Jesus! I pushed you well high!
But, if I had wanted to attack you with the defect
Of the armour, your shame would equalize your glory,
And you would be nothing any more but one ridiculous foetus!"
Immediately its reason from went away.
The glare of this sun of a crepe veiled
All chaos rolled in this intelligence, formerly alive
Temple, full with order and opulence,
Under the ceilings of which such an amount of pump had him.
Silence and the night settled in him, As in a vault whose key is lost.
Consequently it was similar to the animals of the street,
And, when it was being gone from there without anything to see, through the fields, without distinguishing summers from the winters,
Sale, useless and ugly like a used thing,
It made children the joy and rized.