by Charles Baudelaire
Extract of The Flowers of Evil
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American Literature – American Poetry – Charles Baudelaire
< < < Hymn to Beauty
Ill Luck > > >
Ideal Love
No, never can these frail ephemeral creatures,
The withered offspring of a worthless age,
These buskined limbs, these false and painted features,
The hunger of a heart like mine assuage.
Leave to the laureate of sickly posies
Gavami’s hospital sylphs, a simpering choir!
Vainly I seek among those pallid roses
One blossom that allures my red desire.
Thou with my soul’s abysmal dreams be blended,
Lady Macbeth, in crime superb and splendid,
A dream of Æschylus flowered in cold eclipse
Of Northern suns! Thou, Night, inspire my passion,
Calm child of Angelo, coiling in strange fashion
Thy large limbs moulded for a Titan’s lips!
Translated by W. J. Robertson
< < < Hymn to Beauty
Ill Luck > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Charles Baudelaire
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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