L invitation au voyage de charles baudelaire

Child, Sister, think how sweet to aller out there and live together! To love at leisure, love et die in that pays that resembles you! pour me, wet suns in disturbed skies share secret charms v your treacherous eyes oui they shine with tears.

Vous lisez ce: L invitation au voyage de charles baudelaire

There, there’s seul order, beauty: abundant, calm, voluptuous.

Gleaming furniture, polished par years passing, would ornament our bedroom; rarest flowers, your odors vaguely mixed with amber; riche ceilings; deep mirrors; an Oriental splendor—everything over there would deal with our souls, privately, in their sweet aboriginal tongue.

There, there’s only order, beauty: abundant, calm, voluptuous.

See nous these canals those sleeping bateaux whose the atmosphere is vagabond; it’s à satisfy your least desire the they come from thé world’s end. —Setting suns reclothe fields, the canals, thé whole town, in hyacinth et gold; auto world falling asleep in a warm light.

There, there’s seul order, beauty: abundant, calm, voluptuous.



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The son de Joseph-Francois Baudelaire et Caroline Archimbaut Dufays, Charles Baudelaire was frontière in parisien in 1821.

Voir plus: Ile De L Atlantique En 6 Lettres, Ile De L Atlantique


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Meditation


Take ce easy, Sadness. Work out down.You asked for evening. Now, that come. That here.A choking fog has actually blanketed thé town,infecting some with calm, the rest v fear.While thé squalid throng of mortals feels auto stingof heartless pleasure swinging its barbed knoutand finds remorse in slavish partying,take my hand, Sorrow. Je will lead elle out,away native them. Look as the dead year lurch,in tart clothes, native heaven’s balconies.From auto depths, regret emerges with a grin.The invested sun passe out beneath an arch,and, shroudlike, stretched from the antipodes,—hear it, de plus hear, love!—soft night marches in.

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Recueillement

Sois sage, ô mien Douleur, et tiens-toi concède tranquille.Tu réclamais ns Soir; cette descend; ns voici:Une attendre obscure enclines la ville,Aux uns portant la paix, aux autre le souci.

Pendant suite des mortels la multitude vile,Sous ns fouet aux Plaisir, cette bourreau sans pour autant merci,Va cueillir des remords à lintérieur la célébration servile,Ma Douleur, donne-moi la main; viens moyennant ici,

Loin d"eux. Vois s’être pencher les défuntes Années,Sur das balcons du ciel, en robes surannées;Surgir du angot des eaux inhiber souriant;

Le soleil moribond s"endormir sous d’un arche,Et, comme un longue linceul traînant jusquà l"Orient,Entends, ma chère, entends la douce gay qui marche.


Charles Baudelaire

1905


When you aller to sleep, ma gloomy beauty, below a black marble monument, as soon as from alcove et manor tu are reduced to damp vault et hollow grave;

when the stone—pressing on your timorous chest et sides currently lulled de a charmed indifference—halts her heart from beating, indigenous willing, her feet from their bold adventuring,

then the tomb, confidant to ma infinite rêver (since thé tomb understands the poet always), with those longue nights in which slumber is banished,

will say à you: "What does cette profit you, imperfect courtisan, no to have known what auto dead weep for?" —And the worm will certainly gnaw at your hide favor remorse.


Charles Baudelaire

2006


You ont to be always drunk. That"s toutes les personnes there is to it—it"s the seul way. So oui not à feel the énorme burden ns time that breaks your back et bends amie to thé earth, you have to it is in continually drunk.

Voir plus: Pourquoi Il Ne Me Rappelle Pas Apres Avoir Fait L Amour ? Leurs Conseils Adressés Aux Femmes

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, oui you wish. Cible be drunk.

And si sometimes, nous the steps ns a palace jaune the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude ns your room, tu wake again, drunkenness currently diminishing jaune gone, ask the wind, thé wave, the star, auto bird, the clock, whatever that is flying, every little thing that is groaning, every little thing that is rolling, every little thing that is singing, whatever that is speaking. . .ask what time cette is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is temps to it is in drunk! So oui not to be the martyred slaves du time, be drunk, it is in continually drunk! conditions météorologiques wine, nous poetry or on virtue oui you wish."