Sunday August 8, 2004

Spleen

Category: Randomness | 8 Comments | Posted 22:06

Quand le ciel bas et lourd pèse comme un couvercle
Sur l'esprit gémissant en proie aux longs ennuis,
Et que de l'horizon embrassant tout le cercle
Il nous verse un jour noir plus triste que les nuits ;

Quand la terre est changée en un cachot humide,
Où l'Espérance, comme une chauve-souris,
S'en va battant les murs de son aile timide
Et se cognant la tête à des plafonds pourris ;

Quand la pluie étalant ses immenses traînées
D'une vaste prison imite les barreaux,
Et qu'un peuple muet d'infâmes araignées
Vient tendre ses filets au fond de nos cerveaux,

Des cloches tout à coup sautent avec furie
Et lancent vers le ciel un affreux hurlement,
Ainsi que des esprits errants et sans patrie
Qui se mettent à geindre opiniâtrement.

- Et de longs corbillards, sans tambours ni musique,
Défilent lentement dans mon âme ; l'Espoir,
Vaincu, pleure, et l'Angoisse atroce, despotique,
Sur mon crâne incliné plante son drapeau noir.

    Charles Baudelaire - Les Fleurs du Mal

(translation in the comments)

Never a better, more poignant and more expressive, more beautiful and more powerful description of depression. Bloody amazing. I wonder why they made us study that at A-levels. How would we ever understand unless we'd been there? How can you analyze word-by-word something so obviously emotional and inexplicable? I wish I had my Fleurs du Mal here now.

  Comments

sigh @ languages i don't understand

Posted by: JarJar at Sun August 8, 2004 22:21

Sorry
Tried to find a translation for you but was unsuccessful. Is very nice tho.

Posted by: Clarissa at Sun August 8, 2004 22:28

It's really hard to translate poems and keep the same sort of spirit in it.. but I'll give it a try anyway so you just sort of know what it says. I probably fuck up the original poem doing this and I probably get lots of things wrong, but at least you'll have a bit of an idea what it says.

Charles Baudelaire - The Flowers of Pain

When the low and heavy sky weighs like a lid
With the spirit sighing at prey of long sorrows,
And the horizon embraces all of the circle
It pours us a black day sadder than the nights

When the earth is changed into a humid dungeon,
Where hope, like a bat,
Will fight the walls of its timid wing
And knocks the face of the rotten ceilings ;

When the rain shows its immense trails
Of a vast prison imitating its bars,
And a silent nation of dishonourable spiders
Will come to tighten their webs at the bottom of our brains

The bells all jump with fury
And throw a dreadful howl through the sky,
As well as wandering spirits without a fatherland
Who lay theirselfes weeping stubbornly.

- And the long hearses, without drums nor music,
Pass slowly by my soul ; Hope,
Conquer, cry, and the terrible Anguish, despotic,
Plants its black flag over my bowing skull.

Posted by: Evelien at Mon August 9, 2004 11:57

wow I can't believe you took the time to do this!

There are a few mistakes tho, I hope you don't mind me correcting them... I had a little time before work (have to be off now, sigh)

When the low and heavy sky weighs like a lid
On the sighing mind, tortured by the long sorrows,
And the horizon embraces all of the circle
It pours us a black day sadder than the night

When the earth is changed into a humid dungeon,
Where hope, like a bat,
Is flapping at the walls with a timid wing
hittings its head against the rotten ceilings ;

When the rain spreads its vast trails
Imitating the bars of a vast prison,
And a silent nation of vile spiders
Spreads its webs at the back of our brains

Suddenly bells jump with fury
And throw a dreadful howl towards the sky,
Like wandering spirits without a fatherland
Who begin to wail stubbornly.

- And the long hearses, without drums nor music,
Pass slowly by my soul ; Hope,
Conquered, cries, and the terrible Anguish, despotic,
Plants its black flag over my bowing skull.

Posted by: Clarissa at Mon August 9, 2004 12:48

Thanks Hmm at least I came close I like this poem.

Posted by: Evelien at Mon August 9, 2004 13:23

Well hmmm...

Posted by: JarJar at Mon August 9, 2004 21:33

If I was Sinead I would say something along the lines of "oh so you only like it because it mentions a bat? A-HA! AHAHAHAHA!! HAAAA!" or words to that effect.

Thankfully I'm not, so I'll just say pretty poem. Even though I don't understand the French, I'm guessing it sounds better in it.

Posted by: BML The at Mon August 9, 2004 22:22

Yes it does. Much better.

Posted by: Clarissa at Mon August 9, 2004 22:43