Charles Baudelaire
N'importe Où Hors du MondeCette vie est un hôpital où chaque malade est possédé du désir de changer de lit. Celui-ci voudrait souffrir en face du poêle, et celui-là croit qu'il guérirait à côté de la fenêtre
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Anywhere Out of the World
This life is a hospital where each patient is had desire to
change bed. This one would like to suffer opposite the stove, and that one believes that it would cure beside the window.
It seems to to me that I would be always well where I am not, and this question of removal in is one which I unceasingly discuss
with my heart.
"Tell me my heart, poor cooled heart, what would you think of living Lisbon? It must be hot there and you would perk up yourself there like a
lizard. This city is at the edge of water; it is said that it is built out of marble and that the people have
such a hatred of the plant there, that it tears off all the trees. Here is a landscape made according to your taste, a landscape made with the light and mineral and the liquid to reflect
them!"
My heart does not answer.
"Since you like the rest so much, with the spectacle of the movement, want you to come to live Holland, this ground béatifiante? Perhaps you in this region will divert you of which you often admired
the image in the museums. What you of Rotterdam would think, you which like the forests of masts, and ships moored with the foot of the houses?"
My heart remains dumb.
"would Batavia smile you perhaps more? Besides we would find there the spirit of Europe married to the
tropical beauty."
Not a word. - would My heart have died?
"did you thus come from There at this the right moment from numbness
that you like yourself only in your evil? If it is thus, let us flee towards the countries which are the analogies of Death. - I hold our business, poor heart! We will make our trunks for Tornéo. Let us go still further, with the extreme end of the Baltic; still further from the life, if it is possible; we with the pole install. There sun plank only obliquely ground, and the slow alternatives of the light and the night remove the
variety and increase monotony, this half of nothing. There, we will be able to take long baths of darkness, however that, to divert us, les aurores boréales nous enverront de temps en temps leurs gerbes roses, comme des reflets d'un feu d'artifice de l'Enfer!"
Enfin, mon âme fait explosion, et sagement elle me crie: "N'importe où! n'importe où! pourvu que ce soit hors de ce monde!"
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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 to suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window.
It always seems to me that I should feel well in the place where I am not, and this question of removal is one which I discuss incessantly with my soul.
'Tell me, my soul, poor chilled soul, what do you think of going to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and there you would invigorate yourself like a lizard. This city is on the sea-shore; they say that it is built of marble and that the people there have such a hatred of vegetation that they uproot all the trees. There you have a landscape that corresponds to your taste! a landscape made of light and mineral, and liquid to reflect them!'
My soul does not reply.
'Since you are so fond of stillness, coupled with the show of movement, would you like to settle in Holland, that beatifying country? Perhaps you would find some diversion in that land whose image you have so often admired in the art galleries. What do you think of Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts, and ships moored at the foot of houses?'
My soul remains silent.
'Perhaps Batavia attracts you more? There we should find, amongst other things, the spirit of Europe married to tropical beauty.'
Not a word. Could my soul be dead?
'Is it then that you have reached such a degree of lethargy that you acquiesce in your sickness? If so, let us flee to lands that are analogues of death. I see how it is, poor soul! We shall pack our trunks for Tornio. Let us go farther still to the extreme end of the Baltic; or farther still from life, if that is possible; let us settle at the Pole. There the sun only grazes the earth obliquely, and the slow alternation of light and darkness suppresses variety and increases monotony, that half-nothingness. There we shall be able to take long baths of darkness, while for our amusement the aurora borealis shall send us its rose-coloured rays that are like the reflection of Hell's own fireworks!'
At last my soul explodes, and wisely cries out to me: 'No matter where! No matter where! As long as it's out of the world!'
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