Selected Poems from Les Fleurs Du Mal: A Bilingual Edition

\ Selected Poems from Les Fleurs du mal\ \ \ \ A Bilingual Edition\ \ \ \ By Charles Baudelaire\ \ \ University of Chicago Press\ \ \ Copyright © 2003\ \ \ University of Chicago\ All right reserved.\ \ ISBN: 0-226-03926-9\ \ \ \ \ \ Chapter One\ \ \ Au Lecteur\ \ La sottise, l'erreur, le peche, la lesine,\ Occupent nos esprits et travaillent nos corps,\ Et nous alimentons nos aimables remords,\ Comme les mendiants nourrissent leur vermine.\ \ Nos peches sont tetus, nos repentirs sont laches;\ Nous nous faisons payer grassement nos aveux,\ Et nous rentrons gaiement dans le chemin bourbeux,\ Croyant par de vils pleurs laver toutes nos taches.\ \ Sur l'oreiller du mal c'est Satan Trismegiste\ Qui berce longuement notre esprit enchante,\ Et le riche metal de notre volonte\ Est tout vaporise par ce savant chimiste.\ \ C'est le Diable qui tient les fils qui nous remuent!\ Aux objets repugnants nous trouvons des appas;\ Chaque jour vers l'Enfer nous descendons d'un pas,\ sans horreur, a travers des tenebres qui puent.\ \ Ainsi qu'un debauche pauvre qui baise et mange\ Le sein martyrise d'une antique catin,\ Nous volons au passage un plaisir clandestin\ Que nous pressons bien fort comme une vieille orange.\ \ Serre, fourmillant, comme unmillion d'helminthes,\ Dans nos cerveaux ribote un peuple de Demons,\ Et, quand nous respirons, la Mort dans nos poumons\ Descend, fleuve invisible, avec de sourdes plaintes.\ \ Si le viol, le poison, le poignard, l'incendie,\ N'ont pas encor bronde de leurs plaisants dessins\ Le canevas banal de nos piteux destins,\ C'est que notre ame, helas! n'est pas assez hardie.\ \ Mais parmi les chacals, les pantheres, les lices,\ Les singes, les scorpions, les vautours, les serpents,\ Les monstres glapissants, hurlants, grognants, rampants,\ Dans la menagerie infame de nos vices,\ \ Il en est un plus laid, plus mechant, plus immonde!\ Quoiqu'il ne pousse ni grands gestes ni grands cris,\ Il ferait volontiers de la terre un debris\ Et dans un baillement avalerait le monde;\ \ C'est l'Ennui!-l'oeil charge d'un pleur involontaire,\ Il reve d'echafauds en fumant son houka.\ Tu le connais, lecteur, ce monstre delicat,\ -Hypocrite lecteur,-mon semblable,-mon frere!\ \ \ To the Reader\ \ Folly, depravity, greed, mortal sin\ Invade our souls and rack our flesh; we feed\ Our gentle guilt, gracious regrets, that breed\ Like vermin glutting on foul beggars' skin.\ \ Our sins are stubborn; our repentance, faint.\ We take a handsome price for our confession,\ Happy once more to wallow in transgression,\ Thinking vile tears will cleanse us of all taint.\ \ On evil's cushion poised, His Majesty,\ Satan Thrice-Great, lulls our charmed soul, until\ He turns to vapor what was once our will:\ Rich ore, transmuted by his alchemy.\ \ He holds the strings that move us, limb by limb!\ We yield, enthralled, to things repugnant, base;\ Each day, towards Hell, with slow, unhurried pace,\ We sink, uncowed, through shadows, stinking, grim.\ \ Like some lewd rake with his old worn-out whore,\ Nibbling her suffering teats, we seize our sly\ delight, that, like an orange-withered, dry-\ We squeeze and press for juice that is no more.\ \ Our brains teem with a race of Fiends, who frolic\ thick as a million gut-worms; with each breath,\ Our lungs drink deep, suck down a stream of Death-\ Dim-lit-to low-moaned whimpers melancholic.\ \ If poison, fire, blade, rape do not succeed\ In sewing on that dull embroidery\ Of our pathetic lives their artistry,\ It's that our soul, alas, shrinks from the deed.\ \ And yet, among the beasts and creatures all-\ Panther, snake, scorpion, jackal, ape, hound, hawk-\ Monsters that crawl, and shriek, and grunt, and squawk,\ In our vice-filled menagerie's caterwaul,\ \ One worse is there, fit to heap scorn upon-\ More ugly, rank! Though noiseless, calm and still,\ yet would he turn the earth to scraps and swill,\ swallow it whole in one great, gaping yawn:\ \ Ennui! That monster frail!-With eye wherein\ A chance tear gleams, he dreams of gibbets, while\ Smoking his hookah, with a dainty smile. . .\ -You know him, reader,-hypocrite,-my twin!\ \ \ * * *\ \ \ L'Invitation au voyage\ \ Mon enfant, ma soeur,\ Songe a la douceur\ D'aller la-bas vivre ensemble!\ Aimer a loisir,\ Aimer et mourir\ Au pays qui te ressemble!\ Les soleils mouilles\ De ces ciels brouilles\ Pour mon esprit ont les charmes\ Si mysterieux\ De tes traitres yeux,\ Brillant a travers leurs larmes.\ \ La, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaute,\ Luxe, calme, et volupte.\ \ Des meubles luisantes,\ Polis par les ans,\ Decoreraient notre chambre:\ Les plus rare fleurs\ Melant leurs odeurs\ Aux vagues senteurs de l'ambre,\ Les riches plafonds,\ Les miroirs profonds,\ La splendeur orientale,\ Tout y parlerait\ A l'ame en secret\ Sa douce langue natale.\ \ La, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaute,\ Luxe, calme et volupte.\ \ Vois sur ces canaux\ Dormir ces vaisseaux\ Dont l'humeur est vagabonde;\ C'est pour assouvir\ Ton moindre desir\ Qu'ils viennent du bout du monde.\ -Les soleils couchants\ Revetent les champs,\ Les canaux, la ville entiere,\ D'hyacinthe et d'or;\ Le monde s'endort\ Dans une chaude lumiere.\ \ La, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaute,\ Luxe, calme, et volupte.\ \ \ Invitation to the Voyage\ \ Imagine, ma petite,\ Dear sister mine, how sweet\ Were we to go and take our pleasure\ Leisurely, you and I-\ To lie, to love, to die\ Off in that land made to your measure!\ A land whose suns' moist rays,\ Through the skies' misty haze,\ Hold quite the same dark charms for me\ As do your scheming eyes\ When they, in their like wise,\ Shine through your tears, perfidiously.\ \ There all is order, naught amiss:\ Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss.\ \ Treasure galore-ornate,\ Time-glossed-would decorate\ Our chamber, where the rarest blooms\ Would blend their lavish scent,\ Heady and opulent,\ With wisps of amber-like perfumes;\ Where all the Orient's\ Splendid, rich ornaments-\ Deep mirrors, ceilings fine-would each,\ In confidential tone,\ Speak to the soul alone\ In its own sweet and secret speech.\ \ There all is order, naught amiss:\ Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss.\ \ See how the ships, asleep-\ They who would ply the deep!-\ Line the canals: to satisfy\ Your merest whim they come\ From far-flung heathendom\ And skim the seven seas. -On high,\ The sunset's rays enfold\ In hyacinth and gold,\ Field and canal; and, with the night,\ As shadows gently fall,\ Behold! Life sleeps, and all\ Lies bathed in warmth and evening light.\ \ There all is order, naught amiss:\ Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss.\ \ \ * * *\ \ \ La Fin de la Journee\ \ Sous une lumiere blafarde\ Court, danse et se tord sans raison\ La Vie, impudente et crarde.\ Aussi, sitot qu'a l'horizon\ \ La nuit voluptueuse monte,\ Apaisant tout, meme la faim,\ Effacant tout, meme la honte,\ Le Poete se dit: "Enfin!\ \ Mon esprit, comme me vertebres,\ Invoque ardemment le repos;\ Le coeur plein de songes funebres,\ \ Je vais me coucher sur le dos\ Et me rouler dans vos rideaux,\ O rafraichissantes tenebres!"\ \ \ The End of the Day\ \ In all its raucous impudence\ Life writhes, cavorts in pallid light,\ With little cause or consequence;\ And when, with darkling skies, the night\ \ Casts over all its sensuous balm,\ Quells hunger's pangs and, in like wise,\ Quells shame beneath its pall of calm,\ "Aha, at last!" the Poet sighs.\ \ "My mind, my bones, yearn, clamoring\ For sweet repose unburdening.\ Heart full of dire, funeral thought,\ \ I will lie out; your folds will cling\ About me: veils of shadow wrought,\ O darkness, cool and comforting!"\ (Continues...)\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ Excerpted from Selected Poems from Les Fleurs du mal\ by Charles Baudelaire\ Copyright © 2003\ by University of Chicago.\ Excerpted by permission.\ All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.\ Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.\ \

List of IllustrationsForewordPrefaceIllustrator's PrefaceTo the Reader4The Albatross8Elevation10Correspondences12The Sick Muse14The Wretched Monk16The Enemy18The Jinx20The Former Life22Man and the Sea24Don Juan in Hell28Pride Punished32Beauty34The Ideal38The Giantess42Hymn to Beauty44Exotic Perfume46Tresses48"I worship you ..."52"Boredom it is ..."56Sed non satiata58"Dressed in her opalescent ..."60De profundis clamavi62The Vampire66"One night, with a vile Jewess ..."68The Cat72The Possessed74All of Her78"What will you say ..."80The Living Torch82Reversibility84Dawn of the Spirit86Evening Harmony88Poison90Heavens' Haze92The Beautiful Ship96Invitation to the Voyage100Chat104For a Creole Lady106Moesta et Errabunda108The Incubus112Autumn Sonnet114Sorrows of the Moon116Cats118The Owls122The Pipe124Music126Burial128A Fantastic Engraving132The Cracked Bell134Spleen138Spleen140Spleen142Spleen144Obsession146The Taste for Nothingness148Grief's Alchemy150Harmony of Horror152Heautontimoroumenos154Landscape156The Sun158The Swan160"I still recall ..."164Mists and Rains166Morning Twilight168The Lone Man's Wine170Lovers' Wine172Destruction174The Two Good Sisters178The Fountain of Blood180Beatrice Mine184Abel and Cain186The End of the Day192Notes195Illustrator's Notes201Acknowledgments203Index of Titles and First Lines205

\ BooknewsTranslates 73 poems from Baudelaire's famous collection, presenting the French originals and translations in facing- page format. Shapiro (Romance languages and literatures, Wesleyan U.) adheres to the rhyme scheme of Baudelaire's originals, but is less strict with metrical considerations. His diction veers closer to the formal than the more vernacular approach favored by some translators of Baudelaire. The poems are illustrated by 18 engravings by the artist David Schorr. Annotation c. by Book News, Inc., Portland, Or.\ \ \ \ \ John HollanderThese wonderfully resonant versions of Baudelaire's great poems are more than merely rhymed, metrical ones: they manage to become English poetry. Shapiro has found here in splendid translation what is most often lost. -- John Hollander\ \ \ Richard WilburAn admirably sustained rendering of a great range of poems, done with a scholar's accuracy and a poet's formal exactitude. Shapiro captures that tension between lapidary form and romantic emotion, which is Baudelaire's signature, and which has eluded many other translators of "Les Fleurs du mal." -- Richard Wilbur\ \