The Owls, Poem by Charles Baudelaire

Under the black yews whose shelter they share,
The owls sit in rows,
Like foreign gods,
Darting their red eyes. They meditate.

Without stirring they will stay
Until the melancholy hour
When, pushing aside the slanting sun,
Darkness settles in.

Their attitude teaches the wise man
That in this world he must fear
Tumult and movement,

Man drunk on a passing shadow
Always bears the punishment
For having wanted to change his place.

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-owls-charles-baudelaire/