The Flowers of Evil
Meditation
In this sonnet extracted from “The Flowers of Evil”, Baudelaire meditates on the grief of a whole life. He speaks to the grief as to an old companion and takes her, far from the pleasures with a bitter taste, into the solitude of the silent night. He rediscovers with her the clear conscience that calms the forgetfulness moments:
- Be quiet and more discreet, O my Grief.
- You cried out for the Evening; even now it falls:
- A gloomy atmosphere envelops the city,
- Bringing peace to some, anxiety to others.
- While the vulgar herd of mortals, under the scourge
- Of Pleasure, that merciless torturer,
- Goes to gather remorse in the servile festival,
- My Grief, give me your hand, come this way,
- Far from them. See the dead years in old-fashioned gowns
- Lean over the balconies of heaven;
- Smiling Regret rise from the depths of the waters;
- The dying Sun fall asleep beneath an arch, and
- Listen, darling, to the soft footfalls of the Night
- That traits off to the East like a long winding-sheet.
Charles Baudelaire : “Meditation, The Flowers of Evil”. Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954.