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You are a beautiful autumn sky, clear and pink!
But sadness rises in me like the sea,
And leaves, ebbing back on my morose lip,
The burning memory of its bitter silt.
– In vain your hand slips over my swooning breast;
What it seeks, my friend, is a place laid waste
By the claw and the fierce tooth of woman.
Seek my heart no more; the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is a palace wilted by the crowd;
There they get drunk, there they kill, there they tear at each other’s hair!
– A perfume floats around your naked throat!…
O Beauty, harsh scourge of souls, you will it so!
With your eyes of fire, bright as festivals,
Burn to ash these shreds the beasts have spared!
Charles Baudelaire
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-causerie-charles-baudelaire/