How I learned about Charles Baudelaire
Right about 20 years ago, I was at the house of divaluxe, who shoved a Diamanda Galas record cover in front of me, and told me to read this poem. Diamanda had set it to music. I thought this was the coolest poem ever. I was also on acid. Anyway, the acid wore off and I still thought it was some awesome stuff.
My moms (awww) sent me a copy of the book, Les Fleurs du Mal for my 20th birthday. If I could've worn out a book by reading it, the way old cassettes got warped from too many plays, it would've been. The book disappeared somewhere along the way of bad breakups & alcoholic chaos. But the memory remains...
I'll be 40 in two weeks. Lately I've been thinking of the first 20 years and the second 20 years. Thanks, divaluxe for being in my life. You're an awesome lady. Here's a little sumpin you turned me onto, now, I give it to LiveJournal.
enjoy.
French
L'Héautontimorouménos
À J.G.F.
Je te frapperai sans colère
Et sans haine, comme un boucher,
Comme Moïse le rocher
Et je ferai de ta paupière,
Pour abreuver mon Saharah
Jaillir les eaux de la souffrance.
Mon désir gonflé d'espérance
Sur tes pleurs salés nagera
Comme un vaisseau qui prend le large,
Et dans mon coeur qu'ils soûleront
Tes chers sanglots retentiront
Comme un tambour qui bat la charge!
Ne suis-je pas un faux accord
Dans la divine symphonie,
Grâce à la vorace Ironie
Qui me secoue et qui me mord
Elle est dans ma voix, la criarde!
C'est tout mon sang ce poison noir!
Je suis le sinistre miroir
Où la mégère se regarde.
Je suis la plaie et le couteau!
Je suis le soufflet et la joue!
Je suis les membres et la roue,
Et la victime et le bourreau!
Je suis de mon coeur le vampire,
- Un de ces grands abandonnés
Au rire éternel condamnés
Et qui ne peuvent plus sourire!
English
L'Héautontimouroménos
I'll strike thee without enmity
nor wrath, like butchers at the block,
like Moses when he smote the rock!
I'll make those eyelids gush for me
with springs of suffering, whose flow
shall slake the desert of my thirst;
- a salt flood, where my lust accurst,
with Hope to plump her sail, shall go
as from the port a pitching barge,
and in my heart they satiate
thy sobs I love shall fulminate
loud as a drum that beats a charge!
for am I not a clashing chord
in all Thy heavenly symphony,
thanks to this vulture Irony
that shakes and bites me always, Lord?
she's in my voice, the screaming elf!
my poisoned blood came all from her!
I am the mirror sinister
in which the vixen sees herself!
I am the wound and I the knife!
I am the blow I give, and feel!
I am the broken limbs, the wheel,
the hangman and the strangled life!
I am my heart's own vampire, for
God has forsaken me, and men,
these lips can never smile again,
but laugh they must, and evermore!
- Lewis Piaget Shanks, Flowers of Evil (New York: Ives Washburn, 1931)
http://fleursdumal.org/poem/151
A bunch more translations here, if you so care.
My moms (awww) sent me a copy of the book, Les Fleurs du Mal for my 20th birthday. If I could've worn out a book by reading it, the way old cassettes got warped from too many plays, it would've been. The book disappeared somewhere along the way of bad breakups & alcoholic chaos. But the memory remains...
I'll be 40 in two weeks. Lately I've been thinking of the first 20 years and the second 20 years. Thanks, divaluxe for being in my life. You're an awesome lady. Here's a little sumpin you turned me onto, now, I give it to LiveJournal.
enjoy.
French
L'Héautontimorouménos
À J.G.F.
Je te frapperai sans colère
Et sans haine, comme un boucher,
Comme Moïse le rocher
Et je ferai de ta paupière,
Pour abreuver mon Saharah
Jaillir les eaux de la souffrance.
Mon désir gonflé d'espérance
Sur tes pleurs salés nagera
Comme un vaisseau qui prend le large,
Et dans mon coeur qu'ils soûleront
Tes chers sanglots retentiront
Comme un tambour qui bat la charge!
Ne suis-je pas un faux accord
Dans la divine symphonie,
Grâce à la vorace Ironie
Qui me secoue et qui me mord
Elle est dans ma voix, la criarde!
C'est tout mon sang ce poison noir!
Je suis le sinistre miroir
Où la mégère se regarde.
Je suis la plaie et le couteau!
Je suis le soufflet et la joue!
Je suis les membres et la roue,
Et la victime et le bourreau!
Je suis de mon coeur le vampire,
- Un de ces grands abandonnés
Au rire éternel condamnés
Et qui ne peuvent plus sourire!
English
L'Héautontimouroménos
I'll strike thee without enmity
nor wrath, like butchers at the block,
like Moses when he smote the rock!
I'll make those eyelids gush for me
with springs of suffering, whose flow
shall slake the desert of my thirst;
- a salt flood, where my lust accurst,
with Hope to plump her sail, shall go
as from the port a pitching barge,
and in my heart they satiate
thy sobs I love shall fulminate
loud as a drum that beats a charge!
for am I not a clashing chord
in all Thy heavenly symphony,
thanks to this vulture Irony
that shakes and bites me always, Lord?
she's in my voice, the screaming elf!
my poisoned blood came all from her!
I am the mirror sinister
in which the vixen sees herself!
I am the wound and I the knife!
I am the blow I give, and feel!
I am the broken limbs, the wheel,
the hangman and the strangled life!
I am my heart's own vampire, for
God has forsaken me, and men,
these lips can never smile again,
but laugh they must, and evermore!
- Lewis Piaget Shanks, Flowers of Evil (New York: Ives Washburn, 1931)
http://fleursdumal.org/poem/151
A bunch more translations here, if you so care.