La sottise, l'erreur, le péché, la lésine,
Nos péchés sont têtus, nos repentirs sont lâches;
Sur l'oreiller du mal c'est Satan Trismégiste
C'est le Diable qui tient les fils qui nous remuent!
Ainsi qu'un débauché pauvre qui baise et mange
Serré, fourmillant, comme un million d'helminthes,
Si le viol, le poison, le poignard, l'incendie,
Mais parmi les chacals, les panthères, les lices,
Il en est un plus laid, plus méchant, plus immonde!
C'est l'Ennui!—l'oeil chargé d'un pleur involontaire,
Folly, depravity, greed, mortal sin
Our sins are stubborn; our repentance, faint.
On evil's cushion poised, His Majesty,
He holds the strings that move us, limb by limb!
Like some lewd rake with his old worn-out whore,
Our brains teem with a race of Fiends, who frolic
If poison, fire, blade, rape do not succeed
And yet, among the beasts and creatures all—
One worse is there, fit to heap scorn upon—
Ennui! That monster frail!—With eye wherein
Translated by Norman R. Shapiro with engravings by David Schorr
Copyright notice: Excerpted from Selected Poems from Les Fleurs du mal by Charles Baudelaire, translated by Norman R. Shapiro, published by the University of Chicago Press. © 1998 by the University of Chicago. All rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of U.S. copyright law, and it may be archived and redistributed in electronic form, provided that this entire notice, including copyright information, is carried and provided that the University of Chicago Press is notified and no fee is charged for access. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the consent of both the author and the University of Chicago Press.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
apropos: missing a loved one and connecting with the one