"A Martyr" by Charles Baudelaire "translated" by Sandra Simonds

 

 

In the middle of a pool of falcons, I am voluptuous

         but lame. And marbles. And more

marbles on the table. I wear a rose

             dress perfumed with lament.

 

In this room, I have hurt myself so I become

          dangerous and even the mourner’s bouquet

        cannot save my wolf head.

 

I am a cadaver, but what do I do with it?

         I am dead labor, but what do I do with it?

It’s like having blood but no prey.

 

My visions are pale gold shadows

             over my eyes which make my head just ache

and ache like some sort of historic idiot.

 

When night falls, I rest on this table

         and think about the white skin of revulsion.

Oh on this bed, I am the secretary

       of abandonment. A rosary and coins

 

of gold and the leg, the damned blue leg!—

            there can be no diamond skulls

         in the world after all.

 

I am the portrait of my own provocations

         and what strange feelings of strangeness

     I have felt being here on this table.

 

Oh I am elegant! But irritated.

             And everyone should desire me.

Respond to me, Felix. Once you called me deranged

          and impure but I am the world

        and I am that strange creature

 

inside of you, this mysterious

          table and hand and the constant

     eyeball of death.

 

 

Comments

[Marissa Despain]

I love these Baudelaire translations but why the quotes around "translated"?

[Sandra Simonds]

I put it in quotes because it's not a literal translation, so I didn't know exactly what to do! Sandra