Sadness of the Moon-Goddess
Sadness of the Moon-Goddess
Charles Baudelaire
To-night the Moon dreams with increased weariness,
Like a beauty stretched forth on a downy heap
Of rugs, while her languorous fingers caress
The contour of her breasts, before falling to sleep.
On the satin back of the avalanche soft,
She falls into lingering swoons, as she dies,
While she lifteth her eyes to white visions aloft,
Which like efflorescence float up to the skies.
When at times, in her languor, down on to this sphere,
She slyly lets trickle a furtive tear,
A poet, desiring slumber to shun,
Takes up this pale tear in the palm of his hand
(The colours of which like an opal blend),
And buries it far from the eyes of the sun.
Verse breaks and indentation are preserved. Wrapped lines have a hanging indent. Width adapts to your screen.
From The Flowers of Evil (Les Fleurs du mal), tr. 1909. Translation in the public domain. · Translated by Cyril Scott
