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CHARLES BAUDELAIRE LAS FLORES DEL MAL POESÍA PIEZAS CONDENADAS POR E. M. S. DANERO Una prosa aproximadamente rítmica, libre de la servidumbre de la rima,
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31 de mar. de 2010 · Les fleurs du mal by Baudelaire, Charles, 1821-1867. Publication date 1857 Publisher Paris : Poulet-Malassis et De Broise ... B/W PDF download. download 1 ...
Le poëte des Fleurs du mal aimait ce qu’on appelle improprement le style de décadence, et qui n’est autre chose que l’art arrivé à ce point de maturité extrême que déterminent à leurs soleils obliques les civilisations qui vieillissent : style ingénieux, compliqué, savant, plein de nuances et de recherches, reculant toujours les bornes de la langue, empruntant à tous les ...
1 de jul. de 2004 · Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire. Read now or download (free!) Similar Books. Readers also downloaded… In FR Poésie. In Banned Books from Anne Haight's list. About this eBook. Free kindle book and epub digitized and proofread by volunteers.
- Baudelaire, Charles, 1821-1867
- Les Fleurs du Mal
- French
- Benediction
- Echoes
- The Sick Muse
- The Venal Muse
- The Evil Monk
- The Enemy
- Ill Luck
- Interior Life
- Man and The Sea
- Beauty
When by the changeless Power of a Supreme Decree The poet issues forth upon this sorry sphere, His mother, horrified, and full of blasphemy, Uplifts her voice to God, who takes compassion on her. "Ah, why did I not bear a serpent's nest entire, Instead of bringing forth this hideous Child of Doom! Oh cursèd be that transient night of vain desire Wh...
In Nature's temple, living columns rise, Which oftentimes give tongue to words subdued, And Man traverses this symbolic wood, Which looks at him with half familiar eyes, Like lingering echoes, which afar confound Themselves in deep and sombre unity, As vast as Night, and like transplendency, The scents and colours to each other respond. And scents ...
Alas—my poor Muse—what aileth thee now? Thine eyes are bedimmed with the visions of Night, And silent and cold—I perceive on thy brow In their turns—Despair and Madness alight. A succubus green, or a hobgoblin red, Has it poured o'er thee Horror and Love from its urn? Or the Nightmare with masterful bearing hath led Thee to drown in the depths of s...
Oh Muse of my heart—so fond of palaces old, Wilt have—when New Year speeds its wintry blast, Amid those tedious nights, with snow o'ercast, A log to warm thy feet, benumbed with cold? Wilt thou thy marbled shoulders then revive With nightly rays that through thy shutters peep? And—void thy purse and void thy palace—reap A golden hoard within some a...
The cloisters old, expounded on their walls With paintings, the Beatic Verity, The which—adorning their religious halls, Enriched the frigidness of their Austerity. In days when Christian seeds bloomed o'er the land, Full many a noble monk unknown to-day, Upon the field of tombs would take his stand, Exalting Death in rude and simple way. My soul i...
My childhood was nought but a ravaging storm, Enlivened at times by a brilliant sun; The rain and the winds wrought such havoc and harm That of buds on my plot there remains hardly one. Behold now the Fall of ideas I have reached, And the shovel and rake one must therefore resume, In collecting the turf, inundated and breached, Where the waters dug...
This heavy burden to uplift, O Sysiphus, thy pluck is required! And even though the heart aspired, Art is long and Time is swift. Afar from sepulchres renowned, To a graveyard, quite apart, Like a broken drum, my heart, Beats the funeral marches' sound. Many a buried jewel sleeps In the long-forgotten deeps, Far from mattock and from sound; Many a ...
A long while I dwelt beneath vast porticoes, While the ocean-suns bathed with a thousand fires, And which with their great and majestic spires, At eventide looked like basaltic grottoes. The billows, in rolling depictured the skies, And mingled, in solemn and mystical strain, The all-mighteous chords of their luscious refrain With the sun-set's col...
Free man! the sea is to thee ever dear! The sea is thy mirror, thou regardest thy soul In its mighteous waves that unendingly roll, And thy spirit is yet not a chasm less drear. Thou delight'st to plunge deep in thine image down; Thou tak'st it with eyes and with arms in embrace, And at times thine own inward voice would'st efface With the sound of...
I am lovely, O mortals, like a dream of stone, And my bosom, where each one gets bruised in turn, To inspire the love of a poet is prone, Like matter eternally silent and stern. As an unfathomed sphinx, enthroned by the Nile, My heart a swan's whiteness with granite combines, And I hate every movement, displacing the lines, And never I weep and nev...
Des montagnes, des bois, des nuages, des mers, Par delà le soleil, par delà les éthers, Par delà les confins des sphères étoilées, Mon esprit, tu te meus avec agilité, Et, comme un bon nageur qui se pâme dans l’onde, Tu sillonnes gaiement l’immensité profonde. Avec une indicible et mâle volupté.
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