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7.5
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The hour has come at last when, trembling to and fro,
Each flower is a censer sifting its perfume;
The scent and sounds all swirl in evening’s gentle fume;
A melancholy waltz, a languid vertigo!
Each flower is a censer sifting its perfume;
A violin’s vibrato wounds the heart of woe;
A melancholy waltz, a languid vertigo!
The sky, a lofty altar, lovely in the gloom,
A violin’s vibrato wounds the heart of woe,
A tender heart detests the black of nullity,
The sky, a lofty altar, lovely in the gloom;
The sun is drowning in the evening’s blood-red glow.
A tender heart detests the black of nullity,
And lovingly preserves each trace of long ago!
The sun is drowning in the evening’s blood-red glow …
Your memory shines through me like an ostensory!
Charles Baudelaire
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Read poems about / on: flower, red, memory, sky, sun, heart
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Comments about this poem (Evening Harmony
by
Charles Baudelaire
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Charles Baudelaire
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Kimberly Kastner
(3/4/2007 9:46:00 PM) |
I've read many translations of Charles Baudelaire's poem, and this one is the best.
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Charles Baudelaire
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