browse: poetry: translation:

rhyme: results 1–6 of 6

The Joyous Dead  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

28 November 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
classic

In a fat, greasy soil, that's full of snails,

I'll dig a grave deep down, where I may sleep

Spreading my bones at ease, to drowse in deep

Oblivion, as a shark within the wave.

The Fountain of Blood  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

27 November 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
classic

It seems to me sometimes my blood is bubbling out

As fountains do, in rhythmic sobs; I feel it spout

And lapse; I hear it plainly; it makes a murmuring sound;

But from what wound it wells, so far I have not found.

Song of Autumn  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

18 October 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
elegy, classic

Soon into frozen shades, like leaves, we'll tumble.

Adieu, short summer's blaze, that shone to mock.

A Memory  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

25 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
elegy, classic

All this was long ago, but I do not forget

Our small white house, between the city and the farms;

Lethe  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

14 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
classic

Rest on my heart, deaf, cruel soul, adored

Tigress, and monster with the lazy air.

I long, in the black jungles of your hair,

To force each finger thrilling like a sword…

To the Reader  by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

13 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
classic

Among the vermin, jackals, panthers, lice,

gorillas and tarantulas that suck

and snatch and scratch and defecate and fuck

in the disorderly circus of our vice,


there's one more ugly and abortive birth.

 

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