Alfred de Musset (1810 - 1857)
We don’t trifle with love (Extract of the play)
On ne badine pas avec l'amour
All men are liars, inconstant, hollow, talkative, hypocrites, proud and cowards, contemptible and sensual; all woman are perfidious, artificial, vain, curious and depraved; the world is nothing but a bottomless sewer where the most shapeless seals crawl and wriggle on mountains of muck; but there one single thing in this world, saint and sublime, it’s the union of these two beings so imperfect and dreadful. We are often deceived in love, often wounded and often miserable; but we love, and when we are on of the verge of the grave, we look back, and we say: I often suffered, I erred sometimes: but I loved. It is me who lived and not a factitious being created by my pride and my boredom.
To Mademoiselle - Musset
Alfred de Musset
A mademoiselle ***
To Mademoiselle ***
Oui, femmes, quoi qu'on puisse dire,
Yes, women, whataver can be said,
Vous avez le fatal pouvoir
You have the fatal power
De nous jeter par un sourire
To throw us with a smile
Dans l'ivresse ou le désespoir.
In drunkeness or despair.
Oui, deux mots, le silence même,
Yes, two words, even silence,
Un regard distrait ou moqueur,
A distracted glance or a mocking one,
Peuvent donner à qui vous aime
Can give to who loves you
Un coup de poignard dans le cour.
A stab in the heart.
Oui, votre orgueil doit être immense,
Yes, your pride must be huge,
Car, grâce à notre lâcheté,
For, thanks to our cowardice,
Rien n'égale votre puissance,
Nothing equals your strength,
Sinon votre fragilité.
Other than your fragilitiy.
Mais toute puissance sur terre
But any power on earth
Meurt quand l'abus en est trop grand,
Dies when the abuse is too great
Et qui sait souffrir et se taire
And who knows how to suffer in silence
S'éloigne de vous en pleurant.
Moves away from you weeping
Quel que soit le mal qu'il endure,
Whatever the pain he endures,
Son triste rôle est le plus beau.
His sad role is the most beautiful.
J'aime encor mieux notre torture
I better like our torture
Que votre métier de bourreau.
Than your trade of torturer.
A mademoiselle ***
To Mademoiselle ***
Oui, femmes, quoi qu'on puisse dire,
Yes, women, whataver can be said,
Vous avez le fatal pouvoir
You have the fatal power
De nous jeter par un sourire
To throw us with a smile
Dans l'ivresse ou le désespoir.
In drunkeness or despair.
Oui, deux mots, le silence même,
Yes, two words, even silence,
Un regard distrait ou moqueur,
A distracted glance or a mocking one,
Peuvent donner à qui vous aime
Can give to who loves you
Un coup de poignard dans le cour.
A stab in the heart.
Oui, votre orgueil doit être immense,
Yes, your pride must be huge,
Car, grâce à notre lâcheté,
For, thanks to our cowardice,
Rien n'égale votre puissance,
Nothing equals your strength,
Sinon votre fragilité.
Other than your fragilitiy.
Mais toute puissance sur terre
But any power on earth
Meurt quand l'abus en est trop grand,
Dies when the abuse is too great
Et qui sait souffrir et se taire
And who knows how to suffer in silence
S'éloigne de vous en pleurant.
Moves away from you weeping
Quel que soit le mal qu'il endure,
Whatever the pain he endures,
Son triste rôle est le plus beau.
His sad role is the most beautiful.
J'aime encor mieux notre torture
I better like our torture
Que votre métier de bourreau.
Than your trade of torturer.
The Ghost
Charles Baudelaire
The Ghost (Flowers of Evil)
Le Revenant (Les Fleurs du Mal)
Like angels with wild beast's eyes
I shall return to your bedroom
And silently glide toward you
With the shadows of the night;
And, dark beauty, I shall give you
Kisses cold as the moon
And the caresses of a snake
That crawls around a grave.
When the livid morning comes,
You'll find my place empty,
And it will be cold there till night.
I wish to hold sway over
Your life and youth by fear,
As others do by tenderness.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
The Ghost (Flowers of Evil)
Le Revenant (Les Fleurs du Mal)
Like angels with wild beast's eyes
I shall return to your bedroom
And silently glide toward you
With the shadows of the night;
And, dark beauty, I shall give you
Kisses cold as the moon
And the caresses of a snake
That crawls around a grave.
When the livid morning comes,
You'll find my place empty,
And it will be cold there till night.
I wish to hold sway over
Your life and youth by fear,
As others do by tenderness.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Conversation
Charles Baudelaire
Conversation (Flowers of Evil)
Causerie (Les Fleurs du Mal)
You are a lovely autumn sky, clear and rosy!
But sadness rises in me like the sea,
And as it ebbs, leaves on my sullen lips
The burning memory of its bitter slime.
— In vain does your hand slip over my swooning breast;
What it seeks, darling, is a place plundered
By the claws and the ferocious teeth of woman.
Seek my heart no longer; the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is a palace polluted by the mob;
They get drunk there, kill, tear each other's hair!
— A perfume floats about your naked breast!...
O Beauty, ruthless scourge of souls, you desire it!
With the fire of your eyes, brilliant as festivals,
Bum these tatters which the beasts spared!
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Conversation (Flowers of Evil)
Causerie (Les Fleurs du Mal)
You are a lovely autumn sky, clear and rosy!
But sadness rises in me like the sea,
And as it ebbs, leaves on my sullen lips
The burning memory of its bitter slime.
— In vain does your hand slip over my swooning breast;
What it seeks, darling, is a place plundered
By the claws and the ferocious teeth of woman.
Seek my heart no longer; the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is a palace polluted by the mob;
They get drunk there, kill, tear each other's hair!
— A perfume floats about your naked breast!...
O Beauty, ruthless scourge of souls, you desire it!
With the fire of your eyes, brilliant as festivals,
Bum these tatters which the beasts spared!
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Cloudy Sky
Charles Baudelaire
Cloudy Sky (Flowers of Evil)
Ciel brouillé (Les Fleurs du Mal)
One would say that your gaze was veiled with mist;
Your mysterious eyes (are they blue, gray or green?)
Alternately tender, dreamy, cruel,
Reflect the indolence and pallor of the sky.
You call to mind those days, white, soft, and mild,
That make enchanted hearts burst into tears,
When, shaken by a mysterious, wracking pain,
The nerves, too wide-awake, jeer at the sleeping mind.
You resemble at times those gorgeous horizons
That the sun sets ablaze in the seasons of mist...
How resplendent you are, landscape drenched with rain,
Aflame with rays that fall from a cloudy sky!
O dangerous woman, O alluring climates!
Will I also adore your snow and your hoar-frost,
And can I draw from your implacable winter
Pleasures keener than iron or ice?
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Cloudy Sky (Flowers of Evil)
Ciel brouillé (Les Fleurs du Mal)
One would say that your gaze was veiled with mist;
Your mysterious eyes (are they blue, gray or green?)
Alternately tender, dreamy, cruel,
Reflect the indolence and pallor of the sky.
You call to mind those days, white, soft, and mild,
That make enchanted hearts burst into tears,
When, shaken by a mysterious, wracking pain,
The nerves, too wide-awake, jeer at the sleeping mind.
You resemble at times those gorgeous horizons
That the sun sets ablaze in the seasons of mist...
How resplendent you are, landscape drenched with rain,
Aflame with rays that fall from a cloudy sky!
O dangerous woman, O alluring climates!
Will I also adore your snow and your hoar-frost,
And can I draw from your implacable winter
Pleasures keener than iron or ice?
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Poison
Charles Baudelaire
Poison (Flowers of Evil)
Le Poison (Les Fleurs du Mal)
Wine knows how to adorn the most sordid hovel
With marvelous luxury
And make more than one fabulous portal appear
In the gold of its red mistLike a sun setting in a cloudy sky.
Opium magnifies that which is limitless,
Lengthens the unlimited,
Makes time deeper, hollows out voluptuousness,
And with dark, gloomy pleasures
Fills the soul beyond its capacity.
All that is not equal to the poison which flows
From your eyes, from your green eyes,
Lakes where my soul trembles and sees its evil side...
My dreams come in multitude
To slake their thirst in those bitter gulfs.
All that is not equal to the awful wonder
Of your biting saliva,
Charged with madness, that plunges my remorseless soul
Into oblivion
And rolls it in a swoon to the shores of death.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Poison (Flowers of Evil)
Le Poison (Les Fleurs du Mal)
Wine knows how to adorn the most sordid hovel
With marvelous luxury
And make more than one fabulous portal appear
In the gold of its red mistLike a sun setting in a cloudy sky.
Opium magnifies that which is limitless,
Lengthens the unlimited,
Makes time deeper, hollows out voluptuousness,
And with dark, gloomy pleasures
Fills the soul beyond its capacity.
All that is not equal to the poison which flows
From your eyes, from your green eyes,
Lakes where my soul trembles and sees its evil side...
My dreams come in multitude
To slake their thirst in those bitter gulfs.
All that is not equal to the awful wonder
Of your biting saliva,
Charged with madness, that plunges my remorseless soul
Into oblivion
And rolls it in a swoon to the shores of death.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
To One Who Is Too Gay
Charles Baudelaire
To One Who Is Too Gay (Flowers of Evil)
A celle qui est trop gaie (Les Fleurs du Mal)
Your head, your bearing, your gestures
Are fair as a fair countryside;
Laughter plays on your face
Like a cool wind in a clear sky.
The gloomy passer-by you meet
Is dazzled by the glow of health
Which radiates resplendently
From your arms and shoulders.
The touches of sonorous color
That you scatter on your dresses
Cast into the minds of poets
The image of a flower dance.
Those crazy frocks are the emblem
Of your multi-colored nature;
Mad woman whom I'm mad about,
I hate and love you equally!
At times in a lovely garden
Where I dragged my atony,
I have felt the sun tear my breast,
As though it were in mockery;
Both the springtime and its verdure
So mortified my heart
That I punished a flower
For the insolence of Nature.
Thus I should like, some night,
When the hour for pleasure sounds,
To creep softly, like a coward,
Toward the treasures of your body,
To whip your joyous flesh
And bruise your pardoned breast,
To make in your astonished flank
A wide and gaping wound,
And, intoxicating sweetness!
Through those new lips,
More bright, more beautiful,
To infuse my venom, my sister!
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
To One Who Is Too Gay (Flowers of Evil)
A celle qui est trop gaie (Les Fleurs du Mal)
Your head, your bearing, your gestures
Are fair as a fair countryside;
Laughter plays on your face
Like a cool wind in a clear sky.
The gloomy passer-by you meet
Is dazzled by the glow of health
Which radiates resplendently
From your arms and shoulders.
The touches of sonorous color
That you scatter on your dresses
Cast into the minds of poets
The image of a flower dance.
Those crazy frocks are the emblem
Of your multi-colored nature;
Mad woman whom I'm mad about,
I hate and love you equally!
At times in a lovely garden
Where I dragged my atony,
I have felt the sun tear my breast,
As though it were in mockery;
Both the springtime and its verdure
So mortified my heart
That I punished a flower
For the insolence of Nature.
Thus I should like, some night,
When the hour for pleasure sounds,
To creep softly, like a coward,
Toward the treasures of your body,
To whip your joyous flesh
And bruise your pardoned breast,
To make in your astonished flank
A wide and gaping wound,
And, intoxicating sweetness!
Through those new lips,
More bright, more beautiful,
To infuse my venom, my sister!
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
All of Her
Charles Baudelaire
All of Her (Flowers of Evil)
Tout entière (Les Fleurs du Mal)
The Devil into my high room
This morning came to pay a call,
And trying to find me in fault
Said: "I should like to know,
Among all the beautiful things
Which make her an enchantress,
Among the objects black or rose
That compose her charming body,
Which is the sweetest." — O my soul!
You answered the loathsome Creature:
"Since in Her all is dittany,
No single thing can be preferred.
When all delights me, I don't know
If some one thing entrances me.
She dazzles like the Dawn
And consoles like the Night;
And the harmony that governs
Her whole body is too lovely
For impotent analysis
To note its numerous accords.
O mystic metamorphosis
Of all my senses joined in one!
Her breath makes music,
And her voice makes perfume!"
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
All of Her (Flowers of Evil)
Tout entière (Les Fleurs du Mal)
The Devil into my high room
This morning came to pay a call,
And trying to find me in fault
Said: "I should like to know,
Among all the beautiful things
Which make her an enchantress,
Among the objects black or rose
That compose her charming body,
Which is the sweetest." — O my soul!
You answered the loathsome Creature:
"Since in Her all is dittany,
No single thing can be preferred.
When all delights me, I don't know
If some one thing entrances me.
She dazzles like the Dawn
And consoles like the Night;
And the harmony that governs
Her whole body is too lovely
For impotent analysis
To note its numerous accords.
O mystic metamorphosis
Of all my senses joined in one!
Her breath makes music,
And her voice makes perfume!"
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Lethe
Charles Baudelaire
Lethe (Flowers of Evil)
Le Léthé (Les Fleurs du Mal)
Come, lie upon my breast, cruel, insensitive soul,
Adored tigress, monster with the indolent air;
I want to plunge trembling fingers for a long time
In the thickness of your heavy mane,
To bury my head, full of pain
In your skirts redolent of your perfume,
To inhale, as from a withered flower,
The moldy sweetness of my defunct love.
I wish to sleep! to sleep rather than live!
In a slumber doubtful as death,
I shall remorselessly cover with my kisses
Your lovely body polished like copper.
To bury my subdued sobbing
Nothing equals the abyss of your bed,
Potent oblivion dwells upon your lips
And Lethe flows in your kisses.
My fate, hereafter my delight,
I'll obey like one predestined;
Docile martyr, innocent man condemned,
Whose fervor aggravates the punishment.
I shall suck, to drown my rancor,
Nepenthe and the good hemlock
From the charming tips of those pointed breasts
That have never guarded a heart.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954
Lethe (Flowers of Evil)
Le Léthé (Les Fleurs du Mal)
Come, lie upon my breast, cruel, insensitive soul,
Adored tigress, monster with the indolent air;
I want to plunge trembling fingers for a long time
In the thickness of your heavy mane,
To bury my head, full of pain
In your skirts redolent of your perfume,
To inhale, as from a withered flower,
The moldy sweetness of my defunct love.
I wish to sleep! to sleep rather than live!
In a slumber doubtful as death,
I shall remorselessly cover with my kisses
Your lovely body polished like copper.
To bury my subdued sobbing
Nothing equals the abyss of your bed,
Potent oblivion dwells upon your lips
And Lethe flows in your kisses.
My fate, hereafter my delight,
I'll obey like one predestined;
Docile martyr, innocent man condemned,
Whose fervor aggravates the punishment.
I shall suck, to drown my rancor,
Nepenthe and the good hemlock
From the charming tips of those pointed breasts
That have never guarded a heart.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954
The Vampire
Charles Baudelaire
The Vampire (Flowers of Evil)
Le Vampire (Les Fleurs du Mal)
You who, like the stab of a knife,
Entered my plaintive heart;
You who, strong as a herd
Of demons, came, ardent and adorned,
To make your bed and your domain
Of my humiliated mind
— Infamous bitch to whom
I'm boundLike the convict to his chain,
Like the stubborn gambler to the game,
Like the drunkard to his wine,
Like the maggots to the corpse,
— Accurst, accurst be you!
I begged the swift poniard
To gain for me my liberty,
I asked perfidious poison
To give aid to my cowardice.
Alas! both poison and the knife
Contemptuously said to me:
"You do not deserve to be freed
From your accursed slavery,
Fool! — if from her domination
Our efforts could deliver you,
Your kisses would resuscitate
The cadaver of your vampire!"
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
The Vampire (Flowers of Evil)
Le Vampire (Les Fleurs du Mal)
You who, like the stab of a knife,
Entered my plaintive heart;
You who, strong as a herd
Of demons, came, ardent and adorned,
To make your bed and your domain
Of my humiliated mind
— Infamous bitch to whom
I'm boundLike the convict to his chain,
Like the stubborn gambler to the game,
Like the drunkard to his wine,
Like the maggots to the corpse,
— Accurst, accurst be you!
I begged the swift poniard
To gain for me my liberty,
I asked perfidious poison
To give aid to my cowardice.
Alas! both poison and the knife
Contemptuously said to me:
"You do not deserve to be freed
From your accursed slavery,
Fool! — if from her domination
Our efforts could deliver you,
Your kisses would resuscitate
The cadaver of your vampire!"
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
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