Charles Baudelaire :: svět prokletého básníka :: Poezie a próza
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české překlady

Květy zla

Malé básně v próze

Báseň o hašiši


Důvěrný deník

originale française

Les fleurs du mal

Petits poemes en prose

La Fanfarlo

Baudelaire in English

» The Flowers of Evil «

To the Reader

Spleen and the Ideal
The Albatross
The Elevation
I love the thought...
The Beacons
The Sicks Muse
The Venal Muse
The Wretched Monk
The Enemy
Ill Fortune
A Former Life
Gypsies Travelling
Man and the Sea
Don Juan in Hell
Punishment for Pride
The Ideal
The Giantess
The Mask
Hymn to Beauty
The Jewels
Exotic Parfume
Head of Hair
I love you as I love...
You'd entertain the universe...
Sed non satiata
The way her silky garments...
The Dancing Serpent
A Carcass
De profundis clamavi
The Vampyre
Beside a monstrous Jewish whore...
Remorse after Death
The Cat
The Balcony
The Possessed
A Phantom
I give to you these verses...
Semper Eadem
Completely One
What will you say tonight...
The Living Torch
To One Who Is Too Cheerful
The Spiritual Dawn
The Harmony of Evening
The Flask
Misty Sky
The Cat
The Splendid Ship
Invitation to the Voyage
The Irreparable
Autumn Song
To a Madonna
Song of the Afternoon
Praises for My Francisca
For a Creole Lady
Moesta et errabunda
The Ghost
Autumn Sonnet
Sorrows of the Moon
The Pipe
A Fantastical Engraving
The Happy Corpse
The Cask of Hate
The Cracked Bell
The Taste for Nothingness
Alchemy of Suffering
Congenial Horror
Prayer of a Pagan
The Pot Lid
Midnight Examination
Sad Madrigal
The Cautioner
The Rebel
Very Far From France
The Gulf
Lament of an Icarus
The Irremediable
The Clock

Parisian Scenes
The Sun
The Insulted Moon
To a Red-Haired Beggar Girl
The Swan
The Seven Old Man
The Little Old Women
The Blind
To a Woman Passing By
Skeletons Digging
Danse macabre
The Love of Illusion
I have not forgotten...
That kind heart you were jealous of...
Mists and Rains
Parisian Dream

The Soul of Wine
The Ragman's Wine
» The Murderer's Wine «
The Solitary's Wine
The Lovers' Wine

Flowers of Evil
Epigraph for a Condemned Book
A Martyr
Condemned Women: Delphine and Hippolyta
Condemned Women
The Two Good Sisters
The Fountain of Blood
A Beatrice
The Metamorphoses of the Vampire
A Voyage to Cythera
Passion and the Skull

St Peter's Denial
Abel and Cain
Litanies of Satan

The Death of Lovers
The Death of the Poor
The Death of Artists
Day's End
Dream of a Curious Man

To Theodore de Banville

The Waifs
The Setting of the Romantic Sun

The Fountain
Bertha's Eyes
A Face Makes Promises
The Monster

Poem on the Portrait of Honoré Daumier
Lola de Valence
On Tasso in Prison

Diverse Pieces
The Voice
The Unforeseen
The Ransom
To a Girl of Malabar

On the Debut of Amina Boschetti
To M. Eugene Fromentin
A Jolly Tavern

Prose Poems



Malý koutek poezie

Malý koutek poezie


The Flowers of Evil

Previous    Next

The Murderer's Wine

My wife is dead and I am free!
And I can guzzle all I want.
When I came home without a cent
Her crying knifed the heart in me.

I am as happy as a king;
The air is pure, the sky divine...
We had such sky another time
When first our love was blossoming!

The awful thirst I feel today
Would need, to get it rightly slaked,
All of the wine that it would take
To fill her tomb; - a lot to say:

I threw her in a well, and then
I even pitched some heavy stones
Out of the well-curb on her bones.
0, I'll forget her, if I can!

Naming those vows of tenderness
From which no power can set us free,
To reconcile us, as when we
Loved with a drunken happiness,

One night, along a road I named,
I begged her for a rendezvous.
She came!-a crazy thing to do!
But more or less we're all insane!

She was still pretty, though a sight -
Tired with age and troubles. I,
I loved her too much. That is why
I said to her: you die tonight!

No one can understand me. Crowds
Of loutish drunks, not one could think
In his most morbid nights of drink
Of turning wine into a shroud.

Scum of the earth, this doltish crew,
Like iron mechanisms all,
Never, in winter, spring or fall
Have understood what love can do.

Love with its dark, enchanting pains,
Troupe of anxieties from hell,
Its flasks of poison, tears as well,
Its rattlings of bones and chains!

- Now I am free and stand alone!
Dead drunk is what I'll get right here
And then, without remorse or fear,
I'll make my bed on dirt and stone

And sleep as any dog would do!
That cart with heavy wheels, the truck
Loaded with rocks and city muck,
That runaway I welcome to

Come crush my head, or it might well
Cut me in half right where I am,
And I don't give a good god-damn
For God, Communion, or for Hell!

Přeložil James McGowan

originale française: CVI. Le Vin de l'assassin

český překlad: Víno vrahovo

The situation presented in this poem was also to be the subject for a play Baudelaire made several attempts to write, but never finished. :: Since 2002 :: Based On Layout Designed By Danny Is On Fire Productions © 2006