The Sorrows of the Moon Tonight the languid moon dreams and lingers, Like a beautiful woman on a couch who rests, Before falling asleep, with her careless fingers Caressing the outline of her breasts. On the back of billowing satin cascades, She fades and falls into a deeper swoon, Letting her eyes glide over white, ghostly shades That float through the air like flowers in bloom. And sometimes, when in her lazy trance, She lets a tear fall to the earth by chance, Some pious poet, whose sleep won’t come Seizes the pale drop in his palm clenched tight Around its opal iridescence of light And he hides it in his heart from the eyes of the sun. -- Charles Baudelaire (tr. from French by me) paulweinfieldtranslations.wordpress/2013/10/06/charles-baudelaire-the-sorrows-of-the-moon/
Posted on: Sat, 24 May 2014 14:59:59 +0000
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