The Fountain of Blood

Poem by Charles Baudelaire Collection The Flowers of EvilThemes SadnessPeriod 19th century

It seems to me sometimes that my blood flows in torrents,
Like a fountain with rhythmic sobs.
I hear it well flowing with a long murmur,
But I feel myself in vain to find the wound.

Through the city, as in an enclosed field,
It goes, transforming the cobblestones into islands,
Quenching the thirst of every creature,
And everywhere coloring nature red.

I have often asked deceptive wines
To lull for a day the terror that undermines me;
The wine makes the eye clearer and the ear finer!

I have sought in love an oblivious sleep;
But love is for me only a mattress of needles
Made to give drink to these cruel girls!

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-the-fountain-of-blood-charles-baudelaire/