Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Green leaves of evil-with apologies to my favorite poet

A Landscape
"I would, when I compose my solemn verse,
Sleep near the heaven as do astrologers,
Near the high bells, and with a dreaming mind
Hear their calm hymns blown upon the wind.
I'll watch the singing, babbling human bands;
And see the clock-towers like spars against the sky,
And heavens that bring thoughts of eternity;
And softly, through the mist, will watch the birth
Of stars in heaven and lamplight on the earth;
the threads of smoke that rise above the town;
The moon that pours her pale enchantment down.
Seasons will pass till Autumn fades the rose;
And when comes Winter with his weary snows,
I'll shut the doors and window-casements tight,
And build my faery palace in the night.
Then will I dream of blue horizons deep,
Of gardens where the marble fountains weep,
Of kisses, and of ever-singing birds--
A sinless Idyll built of innocent words.
And Trouble, knocking at my window-pane
And at my closet door, shall knock in vain;
I will not heed him with his stealthy tread,
Nor from my reverie uplift my head;
For I will plunge deep in the pleasure still
Of summoning the spring-time with my will,
Drawing the sun out of my heart, and there
With burning thougts making a summer air."

-Baudelaire, translation by F.P. Sturm in The Flowers of Evil, edited by Marthiel and Jackson Mathews (New York: New Directions, 1955 ed), 75-77

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