by Charles Baudelaire
Extract of The Flowers of Evil
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French Literature – French Poetry – Charles Baudelaire
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The Owls
Under the overhanging yews,
The dark owls sit in solemn state,
Like stranger gods; by twos and twos
Their red eyes gleam. They meditate.
Motionless thus they sit and dream
Until that melancholy hour
When, with the sun’s last fading gleam,
The nightly shades assume their power.
From their still attitude the wise
Will learn with terror to despise
All tumult, movement, and unrest;
For he who follows every shade,
Carries the memory in his breast,
Of each unhappy journey made.
Translated by F. P. Sturm
< < < The Living Flame
The Remorse of the Dead > > >
French Literature – French Poetry – Charles Baudelaire
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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