Paris Spleen. Charles Baudelaire

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Название Paris Spleen
Автор произведения Charles Baudelaire
Жанр Поэзия
Серия Wesleyan Poetry Series
Издательство Поэзия
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780819569981



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steadily makes objects sparkle more and more; that flowers in their excitement burn with desire to pit their colors against the blue of the sky; and that heat, rendering their scent visible, lifts them starward like smoke.

      But in this universal enjoyment, I noticed one unblessed being.

      At the feet of a colossal Venus, one of those made-up fools (voluntary buffoons employed in getting kings to laugh when overtaken by Remorse or Ennui, all tricked out in a loud and ridiculous costume, capped with horns and bells) crouching down against the pedestal, lifted his tear-filled eyes towards the immortal Goddess.

      And his eyes said: — “I am the last and the most solitary of human beings, deprived of love and friendship, lower in that respect than the most imperfect animal. Nevertheless, I too am made so as to comprehend and appreciate immortal Beauty! Ah! Goddess! have pity on my sorrow, on my folly!”

      But implacable Venus gazes yonder towards who knows what with her eyes of marble.

      VIII

      Dog and Flask

      “ — My beautiful dog, good dog, dear bow-wow, come closer and sniff an excellent perfume, purchased at the best scent shop in town.”

      And the dog, wagging his tail, which I suppose, in these poor creatures, the sign corresponding to laugh and to smile, approaches and, curious, puts his moist nose to the unstoppered flask; after which, drawing back in fright, barks at me, clearly a reproach.

      “ — Ah! wretched dog, if I had offered you a bundle of excrement, you would have sniffed its scent with delight and perhaps devoured it. So you too, unworthy companion of my sad life, you are like the public, to whom one must not present the delicate perfumes which exasperate them, but carefully selected crap.”

      IX

      The Bad Glazier

      There are natures purely contemplative, completely unsuited for action, who nevertheless, under mysterious unknown impulses, act sometimes with a rapidity of which they would suppose themselves incapable.

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