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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354470" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Le Mauvais Moine (The Bad Monk)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Les cloîtres anciens sur leurs grandes murailles<br>Etalaient en tableaux la sainte Vérité,<br>Dont l'effet réchauffant les pieuses entrailles,<br>Tempérait la froideur de leur austérité.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>En ces temps où du Christ florissaient les semailles,<br>Plus d'un illustre moine, aujourd'hui peu cité,<br>Prenant pour atelier le champ des funérailles,<br>Glorifiait la Mort avec simplicité.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">— Mon âme est un tombeau que, mauvais cénobite,<br>Depuis l'éternité je parcours et j'habite;<br>Rien n'embellit les murs de ce cloître odieux.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ô moine fainéant! quand saurai-je donc faire<br>Du spectacle vivant de ma triste misère<br>Le travail de mes mains et l'amour de mes yeux?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Bad Monk</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cloisters in former times portrayed on their high walls <br>The truths of Holy Writ with fitting pictures <br>Which gladdened pious hearts and lessened the coldness, <br>The austere appearance, of those monasteries.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In those days the sowing of Christ's Gospel flourished, <br>And more than one famed monk, seldom quoted today, <br>Taking his inspiration from the graveyard, <br>Glorified Death with naive simplicity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">— My soul is a tomb where, bad cenobite, <br>I wander and dwell eternally; <br>Nothing adorns the walls of that loathsome cloister.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O lazy monk! When shall I learn to make <br>Of the living spectacle of my bleak misery <br>The labor of my hands and the love of my eyes?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>— Translated by William Aggeler</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Evil Monk </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The walls of cloisters on their frescoed lath<br>Displayed, in pictures, sacred truths of old,<br>Whose sight would warm the entrails of one's faith<br>To temper their austerity and cold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In times when every sowing flowered for Christ <br>Lived famous monks, now out of memory's reach; <br>The graveyard for their library sufficed, <br>And Death was glorified in simple speech.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My soul's a grave, where, evil cenobite, <br>To all eternity I have been banned. <br>Nothing adorns this cloister fall of spite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O idle monk! Say, to what end were planned <br>The living spectacle of my sad plight, <br>Love of my eye, or labour of my hand?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>— Translated by Roy Campbell</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Le Mauvais Moine</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the wide cold walls of cloisters, long ago<br>set forth God's Holy Truth for all to see,<br>and gazing friars there, with hearts aglow,<br>rejoiced despite their chill austerity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">then, when the seed of Christ would always grow,<br>illustrious monks, now lost to memory,<br>would choose the burial-plot for studio<br>to chant Death's glory, unaffectedly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">my soul's a tomb, which — wretched friar! — I<br>have paced since Time began, and occupy; <br>bare-walled and hateful still my cloister stands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">o slothful monk! when shall I learn to find<br>in the stark drama of this living mind<br>joy for mine eyes and work to fit my hands?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>— Translated by Lewis Piaget Shanks</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Bad Monk</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the great walls of ancient cloisters were nailed<br>Murals displaying Truth the saint,<br>Whose effect, reheating the pious entrails<br>Brought to an austere chill a warming paint.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the times when Christ was seeded around,<br>More than one illustrious monk, today unknown<br>Took for a studio the funeral grounds<br>And glorified Death as the one way shown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">—My soul is a tomb, an empty confine<br>Since eternity I scour and I reside;<br>Nothing hangs on the walls of this hideous sty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O lazy monk! When will I see<br>The living spectacle of my misery,<br>The work of my hands and the love of my eyes?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Translated by William A. Sigler</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=354470" data-title="Le Mauvais Moine (The Bad Monk) de Charles Baudelaire" data-description="Les cloîtres anciens sur leurs grandes murailles
Etalaient en tableaux la sainte Vérité,
Dont l'effet réchauffant les pieuses entrailles,
Tempérait la froideur de leur austérité.


En ces temps où du Christ florissaient les semailles,
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