Friday, March 13, 2009

Reading beauty, said Princess Haiku on a full moon is just so....Baudelaire



by: Charles Baudelaire

AM as lovely as a dream in stone,
And this my heart where each finds death in turn,
Inspires the poet with a love as lone
As clay eternal and as taciturn.

Swan-white of heart, a sphinx no mortal knows,
My throne is in the heaven's azure deep;
I hate all movements that disturb my pose,
I smile not ever, neither do I weep.

Before my monumental attitudes,
That breathe a soul into the plastic arts,
My poets pray in austere studious moods,

For I, to fold enchantment round their hearts,
Have pools of light where beauty flames and dies,
The placid mirrors of my luminous eyes.

'Beauty' is reprinted from The Poems and Prose Poems of Charles Baudelaire.
Ed. James Huneker, New York: Brentano's, 1919.

French Translation

La Beauté
Je suis belle, ô mortels! comme un rêve de pierre,
Et mon sein, où chacun s'est meurtri tour à tour,
Est fait pour inspirer au poète un amour
Eternel et muet ainsi que la matière.
Je trône dans l'azur comme un sphinx incompris;
J'unis un coeur de neige à la blancheur des cygnes;
Je hais le mouvement qui déplace les lignes,
Et jamais je ne pleure et jamais je ne ris.
Les poètes, devant mes grandes attitudes,
Que j'ai l'air d'emprunter aux plus fiers monuments,
Consumeront leurs jours en d'austères études;
Car j'ai, pour fasciner ces dociles amants,
De purs miroirs qui font toutes choses plus belles:
Mes yeux, mes larges yeux aux clartés éternelles!
— Charles Baudelaire


advertisno said...

The moon is drunk my grand mother said to me when the moon was so huge round and colorful on the sky...I always be so affected by the moon and everything who is going wrong I blame the full moon ;)


Dorlana said...

Hi princesss,

my daughter speaks french so I had her read it for me - Add the poetry and the language together... beautiful. And after reading the english version first it was fun when I knew what was being read.

thanks for posting!

Cergie said...

Charles Baudelaire... This poem is a true song at the ears.
I know where he is burried, when I go (Montparnasse cemetery in Paris14. With his mother and his father in law), I ever say these words he wrote, I feel he is near me then :

"Ô Mort, vieux capitaine, il est temps ! levons l'ancre !
Ce pays nous ennuie, ô Mort ! Appareillons !
Si le ciel et la mer sont noirs comme de l'encre,
Nos coeurs que tu connais sont remplis de rayons !..."