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

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A Voyage to Cythera

My heart was like a bird that fluttered joyously
And glided free among the tackle and the lines!
The vessel rolled along under a cloudless sky -
An angel, tipsy, gay, full of the radiant sun.

What is that sad black isle? I asked as we approached -
They call it Cythera, land to write songs about,
Banal Utopia of veterans of love;
But look, it seems to be a poor land after all.

- Island of sweet intrigues, and feastings of the heart!
The ghost of ancient Venus the magnificent
Glides like a haunting scent above your swelling seas,
Enrapturing the soul in languishing and love.

Sweet isle of greenery, myrtle and blooming flowers,
Perpetual delight of those in every land,
Where sighs of adoration from the hearts of lovers
Roll as incense does over a rosy bower,

Or like the constant crooning of a turtle-dove!
- Cythera was an island barren in terrain,
A mere deserted rock, disturbed by piercing cries.
But on it I could glimpse a curious device!

No temple was this thing, among the woodland shades,
Where the young worshipper, the flowers' devotee,
Would tarry, body burning, hot with secret lusts,
Her robe half-open to the fleeting wisps of breeze;

But as we skimmed the shore, fairly near enough
To agitate the birds with swelling of our sails,
What we saw was a gibbet, made of three great stakes.
It reared against the sky, black, as a cypress stands.

Ferocious birds were gathered, snatching at their food,
Raging around a hanging shape already ripe;
Each creature worked his tool, his dripping filthy beak,
Into the bleeding corners of this rottenness.

The eyes were two blank gaps, and from the hollow paunch
Its tangled guts let loose, spilling over the thighs,
And those tormentors, gorged with hideous delights,
Had castrated the corpse with snapping of their beaks.

Under the feet, a troupe of jealous quadrupeds,
The muzzle lifted high, eddied and prowled about;
One larger, bolder beast was restless all the more,
The leader of the pack, surrounded by his aides.

Dweller in Cythera, child of a sky so clear,
In silence you endure these desecrations-
In expiation for your infamous beliefs
And crimes which have denied you proper burial.

Hanged man, ridiculous, your sorrows are my own!
I feel, in blinding view of your loose-hanging limbs,
A rising to the teeth, a building in my throat
Of a choking spew of gall, and all my ancient griefs;

Along with you, poor devil, dear to memory,
I suffered all the stabs of all the killer crows
And felt the grinding jaws of panthers, cruel and black,
Who once took such delight in feasting on my flesh.

- The sky was ravishing, the sea a very glass;
For me the world was black, and bloody would it be.
Alas! And as within a heavy shroud, I have
Entombed my heart in this perverse allegory!

Venus, in your black isle not one thing was erect
But the symbolic tree whereon my image hung.
Ah, Lord! I beg of you the courage and the strength
To take without disgust my body and my heart!

Přeložil James McGowan

originale française: CXVI. Un voyage a Cythere

český překlad: Cesta na Kytheru

Cythera: a Greek island south of the Peloponnese; it is the legendary island of love, and as such, subject of a famous painting by Watteau. The poem 'can be read as a reply to a section of Gerard de Nerval's Vrryage en Orient, which contrasted the splendid past of the island with its nineteenth-century oppression as an English colony. Victor Hugo wrote "Cerigó" as an optimistic reply to Baudelaire's pessimistic poem' (Culler).
Dweller in Cythera: the corpse hanging on the gibbet.
this perverse allegory: the investing of scenes with allegorical meaning is a form of self-torture for the speaker. :: Since 2002 :: Based On Layout Designed By Danny Is On Fire Productions © 2006