sigh @ languages i don't understand

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

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.

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.

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

Well hmmm...

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.

Yes it does. Much better.