La Géante (The Giantess)
Du temps que la Nature en sa verve puissante
Concevait chaque jour des enfants monstrueux,
J'eusse aimé vivre auprès d'une jeune géante,
Comme aux pieds d'une reine un chat voluptueux.
J'eusse aimé voir son corps fleurir avec son âme
Et grandir librement dans ses terribles jeux;
Deviner si son coeur couve une sombre flamme
Aux humides brouillards qui nagent dans ses yeux;
Parcourir à loisir ses magnifiques formes;
Ramper sur le versant de ses genoux énormes,
Et parfois en été, quand les soleils malsains,
Lasse, la font s'étendre à travers la campagne,
Dormir nonchalamment à l'ombre de ses seins,
Comme un hameau paisible au pied d'une montagne.
The Giantess
At the time when Nature with a lusty spirit
Was conceiving monstrous children each day,
I should have liked to live near a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.
I should have liked to see her soul and body thrive
And grow without restraint in her terrible games;
To divine by the mist swimming within her eyes
If her heart harbored a smoldering flame;
To explore leisurely her magnificent form;
To crawl upon the slopes of her enormous knees,
And sometimes in summer, when the unhealthy sun
Makes her stretch out, weary, across the countryside,
To sleep nonchalantly in the shade of her breasts,
Like a peaceful hamlet below a mountainside.
— Translated by William Aggeler
The Giantess
Of old when Nature, in her verve defiant,
Conceived each day some birth of monstrous mien,
I would have lived near some young female giant
Like a voluptuous cat beside a queen;
To see her body flowering with her soul
Freely develop in her mighty games,
And in the mists that through her gaze would roll
Guess that her heart was hatching sombre flames;
To roam her mighty contours as I please,
Ramp on the cliff of her tremendous knees,
And in the solstice, when the suns that kill
Make her stretch out across the land and rest,
To sleep beneath the shadow of her breast
Like a hushed village underneath a hill.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
The Giantess
In times of old when Nature in her glad excess
Brought forth such living marvels as no more are seen,
I should have loved to dwell with a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat about the feet of a queen;
To run and laugh beside her in her terrible games,
And see her grow each day to a more fearful size,
And see the flowering of her soul, and the first flames
Of passionate longing in the misty depths of her eyes;
To scale the slopes of her huge knees, explore at will
The hollows and the heights of her — and when, oppressed
By the long afternoons of summer, cloudless and still,
She would stretch out across the countryside to rest,
I should have loved to sleep in the shadow of her breast,
Quietly as a village nestling under a hill.
— Translated by George Dillon
The Giantess
In times when Nature, lusty to excess,
Bred monstrous children, would that I had been
Living beside a youthful giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat beside a queen;
To see her soul and body gain full size
Blossoming freely in her fearsome games,
And by the damp mists swimming in her eyes
To watch her heart nursing what somber flames!
To roam her mighty form at my sweet ease,
To crawl along the slopes of her vast knees,
And, summers, when the sun's unhealthy heats
Made her sprawl, tired, across the countryside
To sleep at leisure, shaded by her teats,
Like a calm hamlet by the mountainside.
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
Giantess
When Nature once in lustful hot undress
Conceived gargantuan offspring, then would I
Have loved to live near a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat at a queen's feet.
To see her body flower with her desire
And freely spread out in its dreadful play,
Guess if her heart concealed some heavy fire
Whose humid smokes would swim upon her eye.
To feel at leisure her stupendous shapes,
Crawl on the cliffs of her enormous knees,
And, when in summer the unhealthy suns
Have stretched her out across the plains, fatigued,
Sleep in the shadows of her breasts at ease
Like a small hamlet at a mountain's base.
— Translated by Karl Shapiro
La Géante
From the time when Nature in her furious fancy
Conceived each day monstrosities obscene,
I had loved to live near a young Giantess of Necromancy,
Like a voluptuous cat before the knees of a Queen.
I had loved to see her body mix with her Soul's shame
And greaten in these terrible games of Vice,
And to divine if in her heart brooded a somber flame,
Before the moist sea-mists which swarm in her great eyes;
To wander over her huge forms — nature deforms us —
And to crawl over the slopes of her knees enormous,
And in summer when the unwholesome suns from the West's
Winds, weary, made her slumber hard by a fountain,
To sleep listlessly in the shadow of her superb breasts,
Like an hamlet that slumbers at the foot of a mountain.
— Translated by Arthur Symons
The Giantess
In those times when Nature in powerful zest
Conceived each day monstrous children,
I would have loved to live near a young giantess,
A voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.
I would have loved to see her body flower with her soul,
To grow up freely in her prodigious play;
To find if her heart bred some dark flame
Amongst the humid mists swimming in her eyes;
To run leisurely over her marvelous lines;
To creep along the slopes of her enormous knees,
And sometimes in summer, when impure suns
Made her wearily stretch out across the countryside,
To sleep carelessly in the shadow of her breasts,
Like a peaceful village at the foot of a mountain.
--Translated by Geoffrey Wagner
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Related quotes
John The Odd
With other children games he did not play
When they played football he would steal away
To take short walk or rest in shade of tree
He felt happy in his own company.
He did not have sporting hero as a god
And other children called him 'John the odd'
And other put down names like idiot and fool
But he ignored their taunts and kept his cool.
He loved Nature and Nature was his friend
And his leisure hours out with Nature he spend
And 'twas Nature first taught him to be a poet
And to her children his first rhymes he wrote.
He wrote of Nature's creatures living free
The birds of song who live on bush and tree
The animals that live on land and sea
He loved Nature and her huge family.
From their schooldays men recall John the odd
They say he went to join his Nature God
One morning he left home for far away
And none know of his whereabouts today.
With other boys he did not play football
And those who went to school with him recall
That with Nature he spent his leisure time
And 'twas Mother Nature who taught him how to rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Le Chat (The Cat)
Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux;
Retiens les griffes de ta patte,
Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux,
Mêlés de métal et d'agate.
Lorsque mes doigts caressent à loisir
Ta tête et ton dos élastique,
Et que ma main s'enivre du plaisir
De palper ton corps électrique,
Je vois ma femme en esprit. Son regard,
Comme le tien, aimable bête
Profond et froid, coupe et fend comme un dard,
Et, des pieds jusques à la tête,
Un air subtil, un dangereux parfum
Nagent autour de son corps brun.
The Cat
Come, superb cat, to my amorous heart;
Hold back the talons of your paws,
Let me gaze into your beautiful eyes
Of metal and agate.
When my fingers leisurely caress you,
Your head and your elastic back,
And when my hand tingles with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,
In spirit I see my woman. Her gaze
Like your own, amiable beast,
Profound and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart,
And, from her head down to her feet,
A subtle air, a dangerous perfume
Floats about her dusky body.
— Translated by William Aggeler
The Cat
Come, my fine cat, against my loving heart;
Sheathe your sharp claws, and settle.
And let my eyes into your pupils dart
Where agate sparks with metal.
Now while my fingertips caress at leisure
Your head and wiry curves,
And that my hand's elated with the pleasure
Of your electric nerves,
I think about my woman — how her glances
Like yours, dear beast, deep-down
And cold, can cut and wound one as with lances;
Then, too, she has that vagrant
And subtle air of danger that makes fragrant
Her body, lithe and brown.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
The Cat
My beautiful cat, come onto my heart full of love;
Hold back the claws of your paw,
And let me plunge into your adorable eyes
Mixed with metal and agate.
When my fingers lazily fondle
Your head and your elastic back,
And my hand gets drunk with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,
I see in spirit my personal lady. Her glance,
Like yours, dear creature,
Deep and cold, slits and splits like a dart,
And from her feet to her head,
A subtle atmosphere, a dangerous perfume,
Swim around her brown body.
— Translated by Geoffrey Wagner
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Le Mort Joyeux (The Joyful Corpse)
Dans une terre grasse et pleine d'escargots
Je veux creuser moi-même une fosse profonde,
Où je puisse à loisir étaler mes vieux os
Et dormir dans l'oubli comme un requin dans l'onde.
Je hais les testaments et je hais les tombeaux;
Plutôt que d'implorer une larme du monde,
Vivant, j'aimerais mieux inviter les corbeaux
À saigner tous les bouts de ma carcasse immonde.
Ô vers! noirs compagnons sans oreille et sans yeux,
Voyez venir à vous un mort libre et joyeux;
Philosophes viveurs, fils de la pourriture,
À travers ma ruine allez donc sans remords,
Et dites-moi s'il est encor quelque torture
Pour ce vieux corps sans âme et mort parmi les morts!
The Joyful Corpse
In a rich, heavy soil, infested with snails,
I wish to dig my own grave, wide and deep,
Where I can at leisure stretch out my old bones
And sleep in oblivion like a shark in the wave.
I have a hatred for testaments and for tombs;
Rather than implore a tear of the world,
I'd sooner, while alive, invite the crows
To drain the blood from my filthy carcass.
O worms! black companions with neither eyes nor ears,
See a dead man, joyous and free, approaching you;
Wanton philosophers, children of putrescence,
Go through my ruin then, without remorse,
And tell me if there still remains any torture
For this old soulless body, dead among the dead!
— Translated by William Aggeler
The Joyous Dead
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.
I hate all tombs, and testaments, and wills:
I want no human tears; I'd like it more,
That ravens could attack me with their bills,
To broach my carcase of its living gore.
O worms! black friends, who cannot hear or see,
A free and joyous corpse behold in me!
You philosophic souls, corruption-bred,
Plough through my ruins! eat your merry way!
And if there are yet further torments, say,
For this old soulless corpse among the dead.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
The Happy Dead Man
Slowly, luxuriously, I will hollow a deep grave,
With my own hands, in rich black snail-frequented soil,
And lay me down, forspent with that voluptuous toil,
And go to sleep, as happy as a shark in the wave.
No funeral for me, no sepulcher, no hymns;
Rather than beg for pity when alive, God knows,
I have lain sick and shelterless, and let the crows
Stab to their hearts' content at my lean festering limbs.
O worms! my small black comrades without ears or eyes,
Taste now for once a mortal who lies down in bliss.
O blithe materialists! O vermin of my last bed!
Come, march remorselessly through me. Come, and devise
Some curious new torment, if you can, for this
Old body without soul and deader than the dead.
— Translated by George Dillon
Joyful Corpse
In a rich fertile loam where snails recess,
I wish to dig my own deep roomy grave,
There to stretch out my old bones, motionless,
Snug in death's sleep as sharks are in the wave.
Men's testaments and tombs spell queasiness,
The world's laments are not a boon I crave,
Sooner, while yet I live, let the crows press
My carrion blood from out my skull and nave.
O worms, black comrades without eyes or ears,
Behold, a dead man, glad and free, appears!
Lecher philosophers, spawn of decay,
Rummage remorseless through my crumbling head
To tell what torture may remain today
For this my soulless body which is dead.
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Knees Of My Heart
Knees of my heart
By: jimmy buffett, michael utley, will jennings
1984
Ive got a question for you
Please grant me an interview
Dont want to read it in a magazine
Dont want to see it on the silver screen
Dont let the craziness tear us apart
Im down on the knees of my heart
Down here on the knees of my heart
This comes from deep in my soul
Your sweet love has taken control
Ill swim across the ocean if you tell me so
Take you to the jump up if you want to go
Its never-y too late to make a brand new start
Im down here on the knees of my heart
Down here on the knees of my heart
Whoa how I will sing
If you give me everything
I live for the day
When theres nothing in our way
I will be waiting tonight
Youll find my boat by the light
Im gonna show you what my love can do
Out on the ocean all alone with you
Well find a desert island on an ancient chart
Take me from the knees of my heart
Take me from the knees of my heart
Take me from the knees of my heart
Take me from the knees of my heart
Take me from the knees of my heart
Whoa oh oh take me from the knees of my heart
Please take me from the knees of my heart
Whoa oh oh take me from the knees of my heart
Uh buh puh buh puh buh puh
Please from the knees of my heart
Whoa oh oh
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Une nuit que j'étais près d'une affreuse Juive (On Night I Lay With A Frightful Jewess)
Une nuit que j'étais près d'une affreuse Juive,
Comme au long d'un cadavre un cadavre étendu,
Je me pris à songer près de ce corps vendu
À la triste beauté dont mon désir se prive.
Je me représentai sa majesté native,
Son regard de vigueur et de grâces armé,
Ses cheveux qui lui font un casque parfumé,
Et dont le souvenir pour l'amour me ravive.
Car j'eusse avec ferveur baisé ton noble corps,
Et depuis tes pieds frais jusqu'à tes noires tresses
Déroulé le trésor des profondes caresses,
Si, quelque soir, d'un pleur obtenu sans effort
Tu pouvais seulement, ô reine des cruelles!
Obscurcir la splendeur de tes froides prunelles.
One Night I Lay with a Frightful Jewess
One night I lay with a frightful Jewess,
Like a cadaver stretched out beside a cadaver,
And I began to muse, by that peddled body,
About the sad beauty my desire forgoes.
I pictured to myself her native majesty,
Her gaze with power and with grace endowed,
The hair which forms for her a perfumed casque,
And whose souvenir awakens love's desire.
For I would fervently have kissed your fair body
And spread out the treasure of soulful caresses
From your cool feet up to your tresses black,
If, some night, with a tear evoked without effort
You could only, queen of cruel women!
Soften the brilliancy of your cold eyes.
— Translated by William Aggeler
One Night When, near a Fearful Jewess Lying
One night when, near a fearful Jewess lying,
As one corpse by another corpse, I sprawled —
Beside the venal body I was buying,
The beauty that was absent I recalled.
I pictured you in native majesty
With glances full of energy and grace,
Your hair, a perfumed casque, whose memory
Revives me for the amorous embrace,
For madly I'd have kissed your noble frame,
And from your cool feet to your great black tresses,
Unleashed the treasure of profound caresses,
If with a single tear that gently came
You could have quenched, O queen of all the cruel!
The blazing of your eyes, their icy fuel.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
A Bed of Shame
One night I lay, a hideous Jewess at my side,
We were stretched out, corpse to like corpse, on my cold bed,
And all my thoughts, leaving this foul bought body, sped
To that sad beauty whom my own desire denied.
I pictured all her native majesty, her pride,
Her glance in all its force and grace and subtlety,
Her hair, a perfumed casque, and the mere memory
Rekindled my love's thirst, ever unsatisfied.
I would have kissed your queenly body fervently,
Spreading the treasures of my rapturous caresses
Upward from your cool feet to your warm onyx tresses,
If some night with a tear bestowed effortlessly
You could, O queen of cruel women, that I prize,
Obscure the glacial splendor of your scornful eyes.
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Le Balcon (The Balcony)
Le Balcon
Mère des souvenirs, maîtresse des maîtresses,
Ô toi, tous mes plaisirs! ô toi, tous mes devoirs!
Tu te rappelleras la beauté des caresses,
La douceur du foyer et le charme des soirs,
Mère des souvenirs, maîtresse des maîtresses!
Les soirs illuminés par l'ardeur du charbon,
Et les soirs au balcon, voilés de vapeurs roses.
Que ton sein m'était doux! que ton coeur m'était bon!
Nous avons dit souvent d'impérissables choses
Les soirs illumines par l'ardeur du charbon.
Que les soleils sont beaux dans les chaudes soirées!
Que l'espace est profond! que le coeur est puissant!
En me penchant vers toi, reine des adorées,
Je croyais respirer le parfum de ton sang.
Que les soleils sont beaux dans les chaudes soirées!
La nuit s'épaississait ainsi qu'une cloison,
Et mes yeux dans le noir devinaient tes prunelles,
Et je buvais ton souffle, ô douceur! ô poison!
Et tes pieds s'endormaient dans mes mains fraternelles.
La nuit s'épaississait ainsi qu'une cloison.
Je sais l'art d'évoquer les minutes heureuses,
Et revis mon passé blotti dans tes genoux.
Car à quoi bon chercher tes beautés langoureuses
Ailleurs qu'en ton cher corps et qu'en ton coeur si doux?
Je sais l'art d'évoquer les minutes heureuses!
Ces serments, ces parfums, ces baisers infinis,
Renaîtront-ils d'un gouffre interdit à nos sondes,
Comme montent au ciel les soleils rajeunis
Après s'être lavés au fond des mers profondes?
— Ô serments! ô parfums! ô baisers infinis!
The Balcony
Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses,
O you, all my pleasure, O you, all my duty!
You'll remember the sweetness of our caresses,
The peace of the fireside, the charm of the evenings.
Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses!
The evenings lighted by the glow of the coals,
The evenings on the balcony, veiled with rose mist;
How soft your breast was to me! how kind was your heart!
We often said imperishable things,
The evenings lighted by the glow of the coals.
How splendid the sunsets are on warm evenings!
How deep space is! how potent is the heart!
In bending over you, queen of adored women,
I thought I breathed the perfume in your blood.
How splendid the sunsets are on warm evenings!
The night was growing dense like an encircling wall,
My eyes in the darkness felt the fire of your gaze
And I drank in your breath, O sweetness, O poison!
And your feet nestled soft in my brotherly hands.
The night was growing dense like an encircling wall.
I know the art of evoking happy moments,
And live again our past, my head laid on your knees,
For what's the good of seeking your languid beauty
Elsewhere than in your dear body and gentle heart?
I know the art of evoking happy moments.
Those vows, those perfumes, those infinite kisses,
Will they be reborn from a gulf we may not sound,
As rejuvenated suns rise in the heavens
After being bathed in the depths of deep seas?
— O vows! O perfumes! O infinite kisses!
— Translated by William Aggeler
The Balcony
Mother of memories, queen of paramours,
Yourself are all my pleasure, all my duty;
You will recall caresses that were yours
And fireside evenings in their warmth and beauty.
Mother of memories, queen of paramours.
On eves illumined by the light of coal,
The balcony beneath a rose-veiled sky,
Your breast how soft! Your heart how good and whole!
We spoke eternal things that cannot die —
On eves illumined by the light of coal!
How splendid sets the sun of a warm evening!
How deep is space! the heart how full of power!
When, queen of the adored, towards you leaning,
I breathed the perfume of your blood in flower.
How splendid sets the sun of a warm evening!
The evening like an alcove seemed to thicken,
And as my eyes astrologised your own,
Drinking your breath, I felt sweet poisons quicken,
And in my hands your feet slept still as stone.
The evening like an alcove seemed to thicken.
I know how to resuscitate dead minutes.
I see my past, its face hid in your knees.
How can I seek your languorous charm save in its
Own source, your heart and body formed to please.
I know how to resuscitate dead minutes.
These vows, these perfumes, and these countless kisses,
Reborn from gulfs that we could never sound,
Will they, like suns, once bathed in those abysses,
Rejuvenated from the deep, rebound —
These vows, these perfumes, and these countless kisses?
— Translated by Roy Campbell
The Balcony
Inspirer of my youth, mistress beyond compare,
You who were all my pleasures, all my hopes and dreams!
Do you recall our cheerful room — our evenings there,
Quiet and passionate? Like yesterday, it seems,
Inspirer of my youth, mistress beyond compare!
The evenings lighted by the hushed flame of the coal,
The warm rose-misted twilights in the early springs,
The balcony! How I adored you, body and soul!
And, darling, we have said imperishable things
The evenings lighted by the hushed flame of the coal.
How splendid were the long slow summer sunsets, too!
How large the world appeared to us! How strong and good
Life ran then in our veins! When I leaned close to you
I thought that I could breathe the perfume of your blood.
How splendid were the long slow summer sunsets, too!
The night would close around us like a dim blue wall,
And your eyes flashed within the darkness, and the sweet
Drug of your breath came over me. Do you recall
How I would love to lie for hours holding your feet?
The night would close around us like a dim blue wall.
I can relive the ecstasy that Time has slain;
At moments I can feel myself between your thighs.
What use to hope for anything like that again
With someone else? What use to seek in any wise?
I can relive the ecstasy that Time has slain.
Those cries, those long embraces, that remembered scent:
Can they be lost for ever? Will they not come round
Like stars, like suns, to blaze upon the firmament
Of future worlds, from the abyss we cannot sound?
— O cries! O long embraces! O remembered scent!
— Translated by George Dillon
The Balcony
Mistress of mistresses, mother of memories,
O you my every pleasure, you my every duty!
You shall recall our blandishments and ecstasies,
The warm peace of our hearth, the evening's placid beauty.
Mistress of mistresses, mother of memories!
Evenings illumined by the glow of coals afire
Or on the balcony, veiled in a rosy mist.
How soft your breast, how kind your heart to my desire!
We said imperishable things the while we kissed,
Evenings illumined by the glow of coals afire.
How glorious the sunset on warm summer nights!
How deep space is! the human heart how competent!
As I bent over you, queen of my soul's delight,
I thought I breathed your blood with its suave acrid scent.
How glorious the sunset on warm summer nights!
The night grew dense, forming a wall to compass us,
Across the dark your eyes bound mine with golden bands,
I drank your breath in deep, O sweet, O poisonous!
Your slender feet slept softly in my gentle hands.
The night grew dense, forming a wall to compass us.
The resurrection of glad moments is an art
I know: I live anew, my head pressed to your knees,
For where, if not in your loved flesh and tender heart,
Can I seek out the wonder of your languidness?
The resurrection of glad moments is an art.
These vows, these fragrant scents, these kisses without end,
Shall they be born again out of infinity?
As suns rejuvenated in the skies ascend,
Having been laved in the unfathomable sea?
— O vows! O fragrant scents! — O kisses without end!
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
Le Balcon
mother of memories, mistress of mistresses
— thou, all my pleasure, thou, my fealties all!
thou shalt recall each kiss how soft it is,
how warm our hearth, the night how magical,
mother of memories, mistress of mistresses!
long hours illumined by the glowing fire
long balcony-hours veiled with misty rose;
soft pillowing breast! heart warm to my desire!
and all the imperishable things we whispered, those
long hours illumined by the glowing fire
how softly shone the golden, shimmering sun!
how deep the skyey space! how rich love's power!
for bending toward thee, most belovèd one,
I seemed to breathe thy pulses like a flower.
how softly shone the golden, shimmering sun!
Night with her thickening wall imprisoned us,
eyes groped for widening eyes the black withheld,
I drank thy breath, o sweet, o poisonous!
thy feet slept in my hands fraternal held;
Night with her thickening wall imprisoned us.
my magic art evoked a rapture perished,
for in thy clasp I saw my youth afresh,
could others yield the languorous charm I cherished,
thy gentle heart, thy dear and lovely flesh?
my magic art evoked a rapture perished!
but — vows and fragrance, infinite desire —
shall they arise from gulfs too deep to plumb,
as morn by morn new suns of rosier fire
mount, laved in some dark sea Elysium?
o vows! o fragrance! infinite desire!
— Translated by Lewis Piaget Shanks
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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La Vie Antérieure (My Earlier Life)
J'ai longtemps habité sous de vastes portiques
Que les soleils marins teignaient de mille feux,
Et que leurs grands piliers, droits et majestueux,
Rendaient pareils, le soir, aux grottes basaltiques.
Les houles, en roulant les images des cieux,
Mêlaient d'une façon solennelle et mystique
Les tout-puissants accords de leur riche musique
Aux couleurs du couchant reflété par mes yeux.
C'est là que j'ai vécu dans les voluptés calmes,
Au milieu de l'azur, des vagues, des splendeurs
Et des esclaves nus, tout imprégnés d'odeurs,
Qui me rafraîchissaient le front avec des palmes,
Et dont l'unique soin était d'approfondir
Le secret douloureux qui me faisait languir.
My Former Life
For a long time I dwelt under vast porticos
Which the ocean suns lit with a thousand colors,
The pillars of which, tall, straight, and majestic,
Made them, in the evening, like basaltic grottos.
The billows which cradled the image of the sky
Mingled, in a solemn, mystical way,
The omnipotent chords of their rich harmonies
With the sunsets' colors reflected in my eyes;
It was there that I lived in voluptuous calm,
In splendor, between the azure and the sea,
And I was attended by slaves, naked, perfumed,
Who fanned my brow with fronds of palms
And whose sole task it was to fathom
The dolorous secret that made me pine away.
— Translated by William Aggeler
Former Life
I've lived beneath huge portals where marine
Suns coloured, with a myriad fires, the waves;
At eve majestic pillars made the scene
Resemble those of vast basaltic caves.
The breakers, rolling the reflected skies,
Mixed, in a solemn, enigmatic way,
The powerful symphonies they seem to play
With colours of the sunset in my eyes.
There did I live in a voluptuous calm
Where breezes, waves, and splendours roved as vagrants;
And naked slaves, impregnated with fragrance,
Would fan my forehead with their fronds of palm:
Their only charge was to increase the anguish
Of secret grief in which I loved to languish.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
My Former Life
I can remember a country of long, high colonnades
Which mirrored in their pale marble the prismatic light
Cast from the bright sea billows in a thousand shades,
And which resembled a cave of fluted basalt by night.
The ocean, strewn with sliding images of the sky,
Would mingle in a mysterious and solemn way,
Under the wild brief sunsets, its tremendous cry
With the reflected colors of the ruined day.
There did I dwell in quiet luxury apart,
Amid the slowly changing hues of clouds and waves;
And there I was attended by two naked slaves
Who sometimes fanned me with great fronds on either side,
And whose sole task was to let sink into my heart
The dolorous and beautiful secret of which I died.
— Translated by George Dillon
La Vie antérieure
aeons I dwelt beneath vast porticoes
stained by the sun and sea with fiery dye,
whose lordly pillars, stark against the sky,
like caverned cliffs in evening's gold arose.
the rolling surges and their mirror skies
blent in a grave mysterious organ-air
the chords all-powerful of their music rare
with sunset's colours in my glowing eyes.
'twas there I lived before, 'mid azure waves,
blue skies and splendours, in voluptuous calm,
while, steeped in every fragrance, naked slaves
made cool my brow with waving fronds of palm:
— their only care to drive the secret dart
of my dull sorrow, deeper in my heart.
— Translated by Lewis Piaget Shanks
My Earlier Life
I've been home a long time among the vast porticos,
Which the mariner sun has tinged with a million fires,
Whose grandest pillars, upright, majestic and cold
Render them the same, this evening, as caves with basalt spires.
The swells' overwhelming accords of rich music,
Heaving images of heaven to the skies,
Mingle in a way solemn and mystic
With the colors of the horizon reflected by my eyes.
It was here I was true to the voluptuous calm,
The milieu of azure, the waves, the splendors,
And the nude slaves, all impregnated with odors,
Who refreshed my brow with waving palms
My only care to bring to meaning from anguish
The sad secret in which I languish.
Translated by William A. Sigler
Previous Existence
For a long time I lived under vast colonnades,
Stained with a thousand fires by ocean suns,
Whose vast pillars, straight and majestic,
Made them seem in the evening like grottos of basalt.
The sea-swells, in swaying the pictures of the skies,
Mingled solemnly and mystically
The all-powerful harmonies of their rich music
With the colors of the setting sun reflected by my eyes.
It is there that I have lived in calm voluptuousness,
In the center of the blue, amidst the waves and splendors
And the nude slaves, heavy with perfumes,
Who refreshed my forehead with palm-leaves,
Their only care was to fathom
The dolorous secret that made me languish.
— Translated by Geoffrey Wagner
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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I Always Have Loved Mother Nature
I always have loved Mother Nature ever since I was a boy
And a thing of Natural beauty is always a thing of joy
And the mysteries of Nature is a mysterious thing
There is far more to any bird than the song it does sing
I always have loved Nature though my wonderment of her grow
And the more I learn about her the less about her I know I know
From humankind Mother Nature her secrets she hides away
And from our walks in Nature we learn every day
The only true immortal of which we will ever know
Us people like her Seasons to life we come and from life we go
I always have loved Nature and in that I'm not alone
Her secrets hidden in every bush and tree and hedge and under every stone
Her mighty rivers from her hills to her great oceans flow
And she has been around long before plants on her first did grow
In her bosom with all other life forms I will also lay
And I will love Nature till my last living day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It Was Only Coffee
Young lady you run... Through my mind... More then I would like... But you being there is... Like a summer breeze... I am tense and at ease... All in that one moment... I see your body before me... Under me... Over me... I would truly love to live... Within your garden-walls... It's not often that a woman... Is so close... And yet so far... Platonic can only travel so long... I realize you are the master... Of your soul... And to me you are like gold... Deep down...I really must work... To get...IT... I felt your fresh-nesssss... From that first day at the coffee... Shop... Your silhouette haunts me still... In a very good way... A way I can't speak of... But you know...you know... If only for one night... Your garden I would love... In delight... Live there for a time... awake to the song of birds... Rushing to fix your break-fast... Treating you like the queen... You are... That gift which God created for man... I fear you...and at the same time... I adore and admire you... Respect you...that is mandatory...God says so... So I let you run through my mind... Keeping my thoughts... Fairly...fair... Most times I am breath-lessss... As I see your magnificent... Shadow... My whole being is harden... But gracefully...mind you... We must have a clandestine rendezvous... Oh'...That is just the boy in me... Speaking out... Don't worry... I will reprimand myself... For that... Sleep my queen... Enjoy the dew upon your... Garden..which is often thought about... And if ever you decide to water it... Remember... I would love to be the rain... And yes I am smiling.... And you...
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Anna Lu King 1910/2001
O’ beautiful black queen…
The center of my dreams…
Enjoy your sleep…
It made me weep…
Yet in my heart you I keep…
And there you will live on…
O’ great queen…
You still watch over me…
And give me God’s favor, faith…
You’ve showed me how and what…
Is love…
Understanding how I was bad and made me see…
My good…
O’ beautiful black queen…Mother…
Of my Mother…
Woman of my second home…
A whole woman…
A woman with an iron fist…
And a heart of gold…
A God fearing woman…
Sleep…you sweet thang…
In my heart you will always…
Ring…
Making the whole of me sing…
I love you for the words…
You never spoke…
You my mothers, mother…
Twins in my world…
Blessed by God…
Sleep, sleep, sleep…
In heavenly peace…
While I thank you…
Dear woman…
For your daughter…
Who loves you and me…
Thank you grand mother…
For loving me…rest…
I feel you…I feel you watching over…
My shoulder…
Bless are you my sweet black queen…
For in my heart is where you still live…
With all my love, your loving grandson
Kwane Kenya Lamb…rest my sweet…
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Prince Fell For The Fair Maiden…
An allegorical ballad
Love bore the tale,
The black-eyed belle.
The prince loved her,
Despite the spell.
He married her,
Became a king.
The girl’s too shy
To be a queen.
She dreamed of dales,
Of sweet carnations.
A bird in her soul –
Her consolation!
The king’s cruel mum
And sisters said:
“We’ve brought you up,
Our dear lad! ”
Then the ocean of pains,
Of quarrels and worries.
The queen grows stubborn,
When the king dies…
The court’s alarmed,
The palace dives in vice,
The skies assault the earth,
Women cry out their eyes.
The old hag raged,
Was absorbed in wrath,
Couldn’t cast a spell,
And met her death.
The widow grew more fearless,
No longer was she a slave.
She could display her smartness,
And the court was filled with awe.
The court prospered and flourished,
Ended the ill-fated years,
The young queen loved her homeland,
That love made her shed tears.
And the spark of beauty – the love
Was born again… it sparked, it flamed,
The knight adored the young queen,
Faithful to her he remained.
Many know that story,
The ballad of glory:
The old tricks and shams
Repeat themselves.
Turned into a brave woman
The humble lass in the past...
She hoisted like sails
Her mourning dress.
The virtue was rewarded… at last.
29.O1.2OO2.
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle (You Would Take The Whole World To Bed With You)
Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle,
Femme impure! L'ennui rend ton âme cruelle.
Pour exercer tes dents à ce jeu singulier,
Il te faut chaque jour un coeur au râtelier.
Tes yeux, illuminés ainsi que des boutiques
Et des ifs flamboyants dans les fêtes publiques,
Usent insolemment d'un pouvoir emprunté,
Sans connaître jamais la loi de leur beauté.
Machine aveugle et sourde, en cruautés féconde!
Salutaire instrument, buveur du sang du monde,
Comment n'as-tu pas honte et comment n'as-tu pas
Devant tous les miroirs vu pâlir tes appas?
La grandeur de ce mal où tu te crois savante
Ne t'a donc jamais fait reculer d'épouvante,
Quand la nature, grande en ses desseins cachés
De toi se sert, ô femme, ô reine des péchés,
— De toi, vil animal, — pour pétrir un génie?
Ô fangeuse grandeur! sublime ignominie!
You Would Take the Whole World to Bed with You
You would take the whole world to bed with you,
Impure woman! Ennui makes your soul cruel;
To exercise your teeth at this singular game,
You need a new heart in the rack each day.
Your eyes, brilliant as shop windows
Or as blazing lamp-stands at public festivals,
Insolently use a borrowed power
Without ever knowing the law of their beauty.
Blind, deaf machine, fecund in cruelties!
Remedial instrument, drinker of the world's blood,
Why are you not ashamed and why have you not seen
In every looking-glass how your charms are fading?
Why have you never shrunk at the enormity
Of this evil at which you think you are expert,
When Nature, resourceful in her hidden designs,
Makes use of you, woman, O queen of sin,
Of you, vile animal, — to fashion a genius?
O foul magnificence! Sublime ignominy!
— Translated by William Aggeler
You'd Stick the World into Your Bedside Lane
You'd stick the world into your bedside lane.
It's boredom makes you callous to all pain.
To exercise your teeth for this strange task,
A heart upon a rake, each day, you'd ask.
Your eyes lit up like shopfronts, or the trees
With lanterns on the night of public sprees,
Make insolent misuse of borrowed power
And scorn the law of beauty that's their dower.
Oh deaf-and-dumb machine, harm-breeding fool
World sucking leech, yet salutary tool!
Have you not seen your beauties blanch to pass
Before their own reflection in the glass?
Before this pain, in which you think you're wise,
Does not its greatness shock you with surprise,
To think that Nature, deep in projects hidden,
Has chosen you, vile creature of the midden,
To knead a genius for succeeding time.
O sordid grandeur! Infamy sublime!
— Translated by Roy Campbell
Tyranny of Woman
Aye, you would bed with the whole universe,
Lewd woman! Ennui makes your soul perverse;
Cruel, you whet your teeth at this weird play,
You need a fresh heart in the rack each day.
Your eyes blaze like illumined shops or lights
Of serried lamps on festive public nights,
They use a borrowed puissance haughtily
Unconscious of their beauty's tyranny.
Blind, deaf machine, geared to increase man's pain,
Tool primed to suckle blood from his last vein,
Have you no shame when every looking glass
Betrays your faded beauties as you pass,
When cunning Nature's hidden plans begin
To use you, beast! woman, vile queen of sin,
To fashion genius in carnality?
O shameless might! Sublime ignominy!
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
You'd Take the Entire Universe to Bed with You
You'd take the entire universe to bed with you,
I think, just out of boredom, you lecherous, idle shrew!
You need, to keep your teeth sound, exercise your jaws,
Daily, for dinner, some new heart between your paws!
Your eyes, all lighted up like shops, like public fairs,
How insolent they are! — as if their power were theirs
Indeed! — this borrowed power, this Beauty, you direct
And use, whose law, however, you do not suspect.
Unwholesome instrument for health, O deaf machine
And blind, fecund in tortures! — how is it you have not seen,
You drinker of the world's blood, your mirrored loveliness
Blench and recoil? how is it you feel no shame? confess:
Has never, then, this evil's very magnitude
Caused you to stagger? — you, who think yourself so shrewd
In evil? — seeing how Nature, patient and abstruse —
O Woman, Queen of Sins, Vile Animal, — has made use
Of you, to mould a genius? — employed you all this time?
O muddy grandeur! — ignominy ironic and sublime!
— Translated by Edna St. Vincent Millay
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Parfum Exotique (Exotic Perfume)
Quand, les deux yeux fermés, en un soir chaud d'automne,
Je respire l'odeur de ton sein chaleureux,
Je vois se dérouler des rivages heureux
Qu'éblouissent les feux d'un soleil monotone;
Une île paresseuse où la nature donne
Des arbres singuliers et des fruits savoureux;
Des hommes dont le corps est mince et vigoureux,
Et des femmes dont l'oeil par sa franchise étonne.
Guidé par ton odeur vers de charmants climats,
Je vois un port rempli de voiles et de mâts
Encor tout fatigués par la vague marine,
Pendant que le parfum des verts tamariniers,
Qui circule dans l'air et m'enfle la narine,
Se mêle dans mon âme au chant des mariniers.
Exotic Perfume
When, with both my eyes closed, on a hot autumn night,
I inhale the fragrance of your warm breast
I see happy shores spread out before me,
On which shines a dazzling and monotonous sun;
A lazy isle to which nature has given
Singular trees, savory fruits,
Men with bodies vigorous and slender,
And women in whose eyes shines a startling candor.
Guided by your fragrance to these charming countries,
I see a port filled with sails and rigging
Still utterly wearied by the waves of the sea,
While the perfume of the green tamarinds,
That permeates the air, and elates my nostrils,
Is mingled in my soul with the sailors' chanteys.
— Translated by William Aggeler
Exotic Perfume
When I, with eyes shut, on warm autumn eves,
The fragrance of your warmer breast respire,
I see a country bathed in solar fire
Whose happy shores its lustre never leaves;
An isle of indolence, where nature raises
Singular trees and fruits both sweet and tender,
Where men have bodies vigorous and slender
And women's eyes a candour that amazes.
Led by your scent to fairer climes at last,
I see a port of sails, where every mast
Seems weary of the labours of its cruise;
While scents of tamarind, blown here and there,
Swelling my nostrils as they rinse the air,
Are mingled with the chanties of the crews.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
Exotic Perfume
On autumn nights, eyes closed, when, sensuous,
I breathe the scent of your warm breasts, my sight
Is peopled by far shores, happy and bright,
Under a sun, warm and monotonous.
A lazy isle which nature, generous,
Stocks with weird trees and fruits of strange delight,
Men with lithe bodies, powerful but slight,
Women whose candid eyes flash luminous.
Urged by your scent to such charmed lands at last,
I see a port with many a sail and mast
Still weary from the ocean's frenzied roll,
While the green tamarinds exhale their savor
To please my nostrils with a dulcet flavor,
Mingled with sailor chanteys in my soul.
— Translation by Jacques LeClercq
Parfum exotique
when with closed eyes I drink the halcyon
warm autumn evening, on thy burning breast,
I see unfurl the atolls of the blest,
blazing in flame from an unchanging sun;
an isle of rest, where Nature's benison
breeds trees unique and fruits of savoury zest;
tall men who stride in vigour manifest;
women whose eyes of candour startle one.
I drift, thy fragrance bearing me afar,
into a port where every sail and spar
sway, wearied by the sea's beleaguering,
— where tamarinds bloom and draughts of perfume winging
through widening nostrils, blend in me to bring
the wind-blown chanteys mariners are singing.
— TRanslated by Lewis Piaget Shanks
The Exotic Perfume
When, with both eyes shut, on a close autumn evening,
I breathe the perfume of your heated breast,
I see happy shores unfold themselves
Dazzling in the flames of a monotonous sun;
A lay island where Nature bestows
Peculiar trees and savory fruit;
Men with bodies slim and virile,
Women with eyes of astonishing candor.
Led by your odor to climates of charm,
I see a harbor full of sails and masts
Still tired by the waves of the sea,
Whilst the perfume of green tamarind-trees
Circles the air and fills my nostrils,
Meets in my soul with the song of the seamen.
— Translated by Geoffrey Wagner
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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What a wonderful world of nature...
When the early morning is born with heavenly blessed
When the bright sun rays shower through the misty clouds
When the birds choir being to chirp their songs on the trees
then the day being with a wonderful of nature.
I can feel the Mother Nature touches me with her love
I can feel the nature illuminates my heart and brighten my soul
I can see the green grass in summer-spread lovely
I can see the flowers in the spring bloomed lavishly
I can see the leaves falls in the autumn covered earth greatly
I can see the trees full of snow in the winter sprinkled
I can see the stream water gurgles from the mountain
I can see the fauna in the jungles freely set to live happily
I can see the barren lands wet and fertile
Not only they are beautiful in nature
but they serve a purpose for us
Not only they are beauty as forest
but they serve food and water for us
Always, praise the God and thank HIM for HIS beautiful creation
What a wonderful world of nature that you and me live.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Polar Bear Family
With meerkat noses all their own,
The polar bears stood near...
Without each other, all alone,
United, less to fear...
The mother like a giantess,
The two cubs half as tall,
As one against the loneliness
And dangers that befall...
With fur coats white against the ice,
The family could roam
And yet that made this man think twice,
For where on Earth was home?
No igloo built, no cosy room,
No respite from the cold,
Yet in their eyes no trace of gloom,
Just wonders to behold...
The scenery was all they saw
Above the depths below,
With coldness they could not ignore,
Just waiting where they go...
Yet I am cold this Winter's night
Beneath the silver moon,
Yet comforted by one delight...
Christmas is coming... soon...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Nature’s Feelings
Words do not describe the feelings inside of my soul;
The experience of winter and summer encompasses the world
Like my soul and the rest of the souls that work and turn
According to Nature, Mother Nature, that also cannot describe
Or reiterate the surge of emotions and feelings.
To expertly decide the future of the globe needs your feelings at heart,
And the heart has many turns and praise can eliminate you.
The world of praises has not enough to constitute a victory for the soul,
Nor do the animals and birds feel at ease just with your feelings,
For at their hearts is also an emotion erupting and awaiting to be called.
The heart and mind creates a description of the soul,
The soul has painted itself on all of Nature, for Nature.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Sleep Of Spring
O for that sweet, untroubled rest
That poets oft have sung!--
The babe upon its mother's breast,
The bird upon its young,
The heart asleep without a pain--
When shall I know that sleep again?
When shall I be as I have been
Upon my mother's breast
Sweet Nature's garb of verdant green
To woo to perfect rest--
Love in the meadow, field, and glen,
And in my native wilds again?
The sheep within the fallow field,
The herd upon the green,
The larks that in the thistle shield,
And pipe from morn to e'en--
O for the pasture, fields, and fen!
When shall I see such rest again?
I love the weeds along the fen,
More sweet than garden flowers,
For freedom haunts the humble glen
That blest my happiest hours.
Here prison injures health and me:
I love sweet freedom and the free.
The crows upon the swelling hills,
The cows upon the lea,
Sheep feeding by the pasture rills,
Are ever dear to me,
Because sweet freedom is their mate,
While I am lone and desolate.
I loved the winds when I was young,
When life was dear to me;
I loved the song which Nature sung,
Endearing liberty;
I loved the wood, the vale, the stream,
For there my boyhood used to dream.
There even toil itself was play;
Twas pleasure een to weep;
Twas joy to think of dreams by day,
The beautiful of sleep.
When shall I see the wood and plain,
And dream those happy dreams again?
poem by John Clare
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My Swan Song
A vision of perfection, I must stare
Your arms, legs, your body, and your hair
With you I can find happiness
You are the one I want to caress
So it was written and so it must be told
It is you I want to have and to hold
At my window sat a single turtle dove
For I don’t want to live without your love
It rains all day since you are not here
My mind is in a daze no longer I see clear
On you all the money I would spend
I love you too much to ever be your friend
Your voice seems to mess up my brain
But I can’t wait to hear it again
I love all the things that you do
That is why I can’t wait to hear from you
Good morning sadness, please go away
Times I wonder how I make through the day
Please tell me how can I release the pain?
Knowing you’ll never come home again
I’m dieing inside without you here
I hunger for your love but do you even care
Loves fire I’m still burning
For your love I’m still yearning
My heart has been wounded very badly
But my life to you I would give gladly
My joy has gone I’m in a constant sad mood
Left behind to live a life of solitude
I gave you my best, I gave you my all
On my knees for you I would crawl
My love comes in all different kinds
But for you I would have died a thousand times
From God’s grace I fell
Pain and sorrow I know them well
I can’t sleep at night any more
Heart ache is my sickness and love’s the cure
I thought that you were special that certain kind
Now crazy thoughts run thru my mind
Dark as the night, cold as the winters
Closed the door, no love longer enters
Words them to sway you I can’t find
Cause you have left me so far behind
No one loves me, no one really cares
When you look back will I still be there
I hear the angels, I hear there call
Saying it’s better to have loved than not at all
From your love I will never recover
For you have been my one and only lover
My love freely I can never give away
I will always love you till the end of day
Darkness surrounds me now that you’re gone
Night cometh no longer the dawn
Pushed aside I’m no longer strong
For in your arms I truly belong
Remember the one that loved you no matter how you look
For my heart and soul is what you took
Young and innocent they have not a clue
So punish me but them too
Foolish is the man that thinks of no other
See the signs and remember the father
What you give is what you’ll get
For what you do one day you will regret
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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I Loved You Once
I loved you once, with all my heart, my spirit, body, soul...
I loved you once, with all not part, with marriage as my goal...
I loved you once, with all my strength, as if I were on fire...
I loved you once, with all at length, as if love meant desire...
I loved you once, with all my dreams, which came by day and night...
I loved you once, with all extremes spent on this one delight...
I loved you once, with all God gave, with passion borne of joy...
I loved you once, with all to save romance and not some ploy...
I loved you once, with love divine, not holding back a thing...
I loved you once, with love benign that caused my heart to sing...
I loved you once, with happiness no other man has known...
I loved you once, with prayers to bless yet now I pray alone...
I loved you once, with each embrace, until the day you died...
I loved you once, with all God's grace yet now what sighs are sighed.
poem by Denis Martindale
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