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

To M. Eugene Fromentin

Concerning a Bore
Who Called Himself His Friend

He told me he was very rich,
But had a fear of cholera;
- That mostly he was tight of fist,
But dearly loved the Opera;

- That nature carried him away,
Corot had been a special friend;
- He had no carriage, sad to say,
But he was working towards that end;

- Marble he loved, and brickwork, then
He loved gold trim and ebony;
- That three much-decorated men
Helped him to run his factory;

- That in his large portfolio
Was an investment in the Nord;
- That he'd discovered, priced too low,
Some handsome frames by Oppenord,

- For the best curios he'd feel
Inclined to splurge (and at Luzarches!)
- That more than once he'd cut a deal
At the Marche des Patriarches;

-He didn't really like his wife,
Or mother-But would have to say
Their souls should find an afterlife,
And he had read his Niboyet!

- He did believe in love-affairs;
One boring time in Rome, a slim
Young woman of consumptive airs
Had pined away for love of him.

Three hours and a half I spent,
While this fool, native of Tournai,
Unloaded all his life's events;
My brain felt nothing but dismay.

Don't ask me to describe my pain,
I'd never finish with the task;
I told myself, to ease the strain:
'A little sleep is all I ask!'

Like any man who does not dare,
Though ill-at-ease, to stand and go,
I screwed my rump into my chair
And dreamed of skewering my foe.

Bastogne is this monster's name;
He was escaping the disease.
Myself, I'd run as far as Spain,
Or throw myself into the seas,

If in this Paris he can't stand,
When everyone is back to stay,
I'd find again, on any hand,
This pestilence out of Tournai.

Přeložil James McGowan

originale française: A M. Eugene Fromentin

český překlad: O jednom dotěravci

Eugene Fromentin was a painter and friend of Baudelaire.
Corot: Jean Baptiste Camille Corot (1796-1875), great French landscape painter and realist.
Nord: a prominent railway company.
Oppenord: French architect, designer, and cabinet-maker in the rococo style, born in the Netherlands (1639-1715).
Niboyet: a diplomat and author of moralistic novels. :: Since 2002 :: Based On Layout Designed By Danny Is On Fire Productions © 2006