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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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The Unforeseen

Harpagon, while his father wastes away,
Meditates, as those lips grow white and thin:
'Up in the loft we have somewhere, I'd say,
Enough old boards to do for him.'

Celimene coos: 'My heart is good; I am
Of course made beautiful by God as well.'
- Her heart! a shrivelled heart, smoked like a ham,
Re-heated in the flames of Hell!

A gazetteer who claims he's spreading light
Says to the poor, through smoke that suffocates:
'Where, then, do you perceive this lovely sight,
This Saviour whom you celebrate?'

Of libertines, none knows as well as I
These men who yawn in ennui, grieve and vow
And in their fecklessness set up the cry:
'I will be good, an hour from now!'

The Clock, in turn, says in a low voice: 'All
Are ripe, damned beings! Fragile Man, it's time.
You're deaf and blind, infected as a wall
An insect gnaws and undermines!'

And then Someone denied by all appears,
And mocking, proud, he tells them: 'From my vast
Ciborium you have communed for years
In celebrating my Black Mass!

You all have built me temples deep inside,
And kissed my filthy buttocks! Now you must
Recognize Satan by his laugh of pride,
Huge, ugly as this world of dust!

You hypocrites, can you believe these lies -
That one may mock the Master, play him tricks,
That one may really win a double prize,
To go to Heaven, and be rich?

I've thrilled and quivered, tracking down my prey,
Who now must pay the ancient hunter's fee,
As I transport you from the light of day,
Guests of my mournful levity,

Through the dense darkness of the land and rock,
Across the midden where your bones are thrown,
Into a palace large as I, one block,
And not of any tender stone,

Since it is made of universal Sin,
And of my glory, pain, and vanity!'
- But then on high an angel will begin
To sound the note of victory

For those whose hearts say: 'Blest be your commands
O Lord! Your lash is for our benefit!
My soul is not a plaything in your hands,
Whose providence is infinite.'

And so delicious is the trumpet's call
These evenings of the holy harvest days,
It filters like an ecstasy in all
Who listen as it sings their praise.

Přeložil James McGowan

originale française: L'Imprévu

český překlad: Netušené

This poem was dedicated to Barbey d' Aureville, who had predicted in an article that Baudelaire would have to either turn Christian or blow his brains out.
Harpagon: the type of a cheapskate, from Moliere's play The Miser.
celimime: the type of a self-satisfied flirt, from Moliere's play The Misanthrope.
A gazetteer. a sceptic; a 'Voltairean journalist' (J. Dupont). Ciborium: a container for holding the host for the service of communion; Satan is referring to that parody of the Christian service, the Black Mass. :: Since 2002 :: Based On Layout Designed By Danny Is On Fire Productions © 2006