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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354412" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Chant d'automne (Song Of Autumn)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bientôt nous plongerons dans les froides ténèbres;<br>Adieu, vive clarté de nos étés trop courts!<br>J'entends déjà tomber avec des chocs funèbres<br>Le bois retentissant sur le pavé des cours.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tout l'hiver va rentrer dans mon être: colère,<br>Haine, frissons, horreur, labeur dur et forcé,<br>Et, comme le soleil dans son enfer polaire,<br>Mon coeur ne sera plus qu'un bloc rouge et glacé.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">J'écoute en frémissant chaque bûche qui tombe<br>L'échafaud qu'on bâtit n'a pas d'écho plus sourd.<br>Mon esprit est pareil à la tour qui succombe<br>Sous les coups du bélier infatigable et lourd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II me semble, bercé par ce choc monotone,<br>Qu'on cloue en grande hâte un cercueil quelque part.<br>Pour qui? — C'était hier l'été; voici l'automne!<br>Ce bruit mystérieux sonne comme un départ.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">J'aime de vos longs yeux la lumière verdâtre,<br>Douce beauté, mais tout aujourd'hui m'est amer, Et rien, ni votre amour, ni le boudoir, ni l'âtre,<br>Ne me vaut le soleil rayonnant sur la mer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Et pourtant aimez-moi, tendre coeur! soyez mère,<br>Même pour un ingrat, même pour un méchant;<br>Amante ou soeur, soyez la douceur éphémère<br>D'un glorieux automne ou d'un soleil couchant.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Courte tâche! La tombe attend; elle est avide!<br>Ah! laissez-moi, mon front posé sur vos genoux,<br>Goûter, en regrettant l'été blanc et torride,<br>De l'arrière-saison le rayon jaune et doux!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Song of Autumn</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon we shall plunge into the cold darkness; <br>Farewell, vivid brightness of our short-lived summers! <br>Already I hear the dismal sound of firewood <br>Falling with a clatter on the courtyard pavements.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All winter will possess my being: wrath, <br>Hate, horror, shivering, hard, forced labor, <br>And, like the sun in his polar Hades, <br>My heart will be no more than a frozen red block.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All atremble I listen to each falling log; <br>The building of a scaffold has no duller sound. <br>My spirit resembles the tower which crumbles <br>Under the tireless blows of the battering ram.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It seems to me, lulled by these monotonous shocks, <br>That somewhere they're nailing a coffin, in great haste. <br>For whom? — Yesterday was summer; here is autumn <br>That mysterious noise sounds like a departure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I love the greenish light of your long eyes, <br>Sweet beauty, but today all to me is bitter; <br>Nothing, neither your love, your boudoir, nor your hearth <br>Is worth as much as the sunlight on the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, love me, tender heart! be a mother, <br>Even to an ingrate, even to a scapegrace; <br>Mistress or sister, be the fleeting sweetness <br>Of a gorgeous autumn or of a setting sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Short task! The tomb awaits; it is avid!<br>Ah! let me, with my head bowed on your knees,<br>Taste the sweet, yellow rays of the end of autumn,<br>While I mourn for the white, torrid summer!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>— Translated by William Aggeler</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Song of Autumn </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon into frozen shades, like leaves, we'll tumble. <br>Adieu, short summer's blaze, that shone to mock. <br>I hear already the funereal rumble <br>Of logs, as on the paving-stones they shock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Winter will enter in my soul to dwell — <br>Rage, hate, fear, horror, labour forced and dire! <br>My heart will seem, to sun that polar hell, <br>A dim, red, frozen block, devoid of fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shuddering I hear the heavy thud of fuel. <br>The building of a gallows sounds as good!<br>My spirit, like a tower, reels to the cruel <br>Battering-ram in every crash of wood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ceaseless echoes rock me and appal. <br>They're nailing up a coffin, I'll be bound, <br>For whom? — Last night was Summer. Here's the Fall.<br>There booms a farewell volley in the sound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I like die greenish light in your long eyes, <br>Dear: but today all things are sour to me. <br>And naught, your hearth, your boudoir, nor your sighs <br>Are worth the sun that glitters on the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet love me, tender heart, as mothers cherish <br>A thankless wretch, Lover or sister, be <br>Ephemeral sweetness of the suns that perish <br>Or glory of the autumn swift to flee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Brief task! The charnel yawns in hunger horrid, <br>Yet let me with my head upon your knees, <br>Although I mourn the summer, white and torrid <br>Taste these last yellow rays before they freeze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>— Translated by Roy Campbell</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chant d'automne</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I </div><div style="margin:10px 0">soon shall we plunge 'neath winter's icy pall;<br>farewell, bright fires of too-brief July!<br>even now I hear the knell funereal<br>of falling fire-logs in the court close by.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">once more on me shall winter all unroll:<br>wrath, hatred, shivering dread, Toil's cursèd vise,<br>and like the sun in his far hell, the pole,<br>my heart shall be a block of crimson ice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wait aghast each loud impending log;<br>thus, criminals 'neath rising gibbets cower.<br>o dreadful battering-ram! my soul, agog,<br>quivers and totters like a crumbling tower,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">till to my dream the cradling echoes drum<br>like hammers madly finishing a bier.<br>— for whom? — June yesterday; now fall is come!<br>mysterious dirge, who has departed here?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I love your long green eyes of slumberous fire,<br>my sweet, but now all things are gall to me,<br>and naught, your room, your hearth nor your desire<br>is worth the sunlight shimmering on the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">yet love me, tender heart! a mother be<br>even to an ingrate, or a wicked one;<br>mistress or sister, be as sweet to me<br>as some brief autumn or a setting sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'twill not be long! the hungering tomb awaits!<br>ah! let me — brow at peace upon your knees —<br>savour, regretful of June's parching heats,<br>this balmy soft October, ere it flees!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>— Translated by Lewis Piaget Shanks</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Autumn</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows,<br>And all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone.<br>I already hear the dead thuds of logs below<br>Falling on the cobblestones and the lawn. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All of winter will return to me<br>derision, Hate, shuddering, horror, drudgery and vice,<br>And exiled, like the sun, to a polar prison,<br>My soul will harden into a block of red ice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I shiver as I listen to each log crash and slam<br>The echoes are as dull as executioners' drums.<br>My mind is like a tower that slowly succumbs<br>To the blows of a relentless battering ram.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It seems to me, swaying to these shocks, that someone<br>Is nailing down a coffin in a hurry somewhere.<br>For whom? It was summer yesterday; now it's autumn.<br>Echoes of departure keep resounding in the air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Translated by Anonymous</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Baudelaire">Charles Baudelaire</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354412" data-title="Chant d'automne (Song Of Autumn) de Charles Baudelaire" data-description="I

Bientôt nous plongerons dans les froides ténèbres;
Adieu, vive clarté de nos étés trop courts!
J'entends déjà tomber avec des chocs funèbres
Le bois retentissant sur le pavé des cours.

Tout l'hiver va rentrer dans mon être: colère,..."></div>
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