Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Music
Music, like an ocean, often carries me away!Through the ether far,or under a canopy of mist, I set sailfor my pale star.Breasting the waves, my lungs..
© Charles Baudelaire
De Profundis Clamavi
Have pity, You alone whom I adoreFrom down this black pit where my heart is sped,A sombre universe ringed round with leadWhere fear and curses the..
© Charles Baudelaire
Sorrows Of The Moon
Tonight the moon dreams in a deeper languidness,And, like a beauty on her cushions, lies at rest;While drifting off to sleep, a tentative..
© Charles Baudelaire
The Fountain Of Blood
A fountain's pulsing sobs--like this my bloodMeasures its flowing, so it sometimes seems.I hear a gentle murmur as it streams;Where the wound lies..
© Charles Baudelaire
The Vampire
You that, like a dagger’s thrust,Have entered my complaining heart,You that, stronger than a hostOf demons, came, wild yet prepared;Within my mind’s..
© Charles Baudelaire
Elevation
Above the ponds, beyond the valleys,The woods, the mountains, the clouds, the seas,Farther than the sun, the distant breeze,The spheres that wilt to..
© Charles Baudelaire
Invitation To The Voyage
Imagine, ma petite,Dear sister mine, how sweetWere we to go and take our pleasureLeisurely, you and I—To lie, to love, to dieOff in that land made to..
© Charles Baudelaire
Evening Harmony
The hour has come at last when, trembling to and fro,Each flower is a censer sifting its perfume;The scent and sounds all swirl in evening’s gentle..
© Charles Baudelaire
Composure
(The speaker addresses himself)Lighten up, you bitch, stop being so bitter.You lobbied for night. It falls. Right here.The air, a haziness, wimples..
© Charles Baudelaire
Calm
Have patience, O my sorrow, and be still.You asked for night: it falls: it is here.A shadowy atmosphere enshrouds the hill,to some men bringing..
© Charles Baudelaire
Bertha’s Eyes
You can scorn more illustrious eyes,sweet eyes of my child, through which there takes flightsomething as good or as tender as night.Turn to mine your..
© Charles Baudelaire
Correspondences
Nature is a temple whose living colonnadesBreathe forth a mystic speech in fitful sighs;Man wanders among symbols in those gladesWhere all things..
© Charles Baudelaire
The Albatross
Often to pass the time on board, the crewwill catch an albatross, one of those big birdswhich nonchalently chaperone a shipacross the bitter fathoms..
© Charles Baudelaire
Windows
Looking from outside into an open window one never sees as much as when one looks through a closed window. There is nothing more profound, more..
© Charles Baudelaire
The Jewels
My well-beloved was stripped. Knowing my whim,She wore her tinkling gems, but naught besides:And showed such pride as, while her luck betides,A..
© Charles Baudelaire
Crowds
It is not given to every man to take a bath of multitude; enjoying a crowd is an art; and only he can relish a debauch of vitality at the expense of..
© Charles Baudelaire
Au Lecteur
La sottise, l'erreur, le péché, la lésine,Occupent nos esprits et travaillent nos corps,Et nous alimentons nos aimables remords,Comme les mendiants..
© Charles Baudelaire
The Carcass
Remember that object we saw, dear soul,In the sweetness of a summer morn:At a bend of the path a loathsome carrionOn a bed with pebbles strewn,With..
© Charles Baudelaire
Autumn
Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows,And all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone.I already hear the dead thuds of logs..
© Charles Baudelaire
Beacons
Reubens, river of forgetfulness, garden of sloth,Pillow of wet flesh that one cannot love,But where life throngs and seethes without ceaseLike the..
© Charles Baudelaire
At One O'Clock In The Morning
Alone, at last! Not a sound to be heard but the rumbling of some belated and decrepit cabs. For a few hourswe shall have silence, if not repose. At..
© Charles Baudelaire
Cats
They are alike, prim scholar and perfervid lover:When comes the season of decay, they both decideUpon sweet, husky cats to be the household..
© Charles Baudelaire
Anywhere Out Of The World
This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like tosuffer in front of the stove, and..
© Charles Baudelaire
Her Hair
O fleece, that down the neck waves to the nape!O curls! O perfume nonchalant and rare!O ecstasy! To fill this alcove shapeWith memories that in these..
© Charles Baudelaire
Get Drunk
Always be drunk.That's it!The great imperative!In order not to feelTime's horrid fardelbruise your shoulders,grinding you into the earth,Get drunk..
© Charles Baudelaire