Spleen I

[tyro tortoise]

--- s~Z <keithsz at concentric.net> wrote:
> 
> Spleen I by Baudelaire
> 
> Pluvius, irritated at the entire town,
Pluviose, against the entire City irritated

> From his urn pours torrents of a gloomy chill
Pours from its great urn a cold that tenebrous

> Over the pale neighbors resting underground
Over the pale dead in the graveyard inundated

> And mortality over shrouded suburban hills.
By sheer mortality and rains ruinous.

> 
> My cat looks among the flagstones for a litter,
My cat seeking his strange litter ironically

> Turning his meager, mangy body without rest;
Twists his thin body cruel and curious;

> The soul of an old poet plays in the gutter,
A poet's shadow wanders in the gutter, wearily

> His sad voice that of a shivering ghost.
Utteringthe cries of a phantom infamous

> 
> The logs blacken with smoke, and the bumblebee
> laments
> With the sniffling clock in falsetto accompaniment,
The bourdon makes lament and firewood smokes/
To the sound of the swinging pendulum that chokes,

> While from a dropsical old woman's bequeathed trove,
> A deck full of dirty, dull, stalely perfumed cards,
> The queen of spades and the dapper jack of hearts
> Have a sinister chat about their defunct love.

Whilst in game full of foul-hearted perfumes, 
The fatal heritage of an old woman, an old maid's, 
The tragical Knave of Hearts and the Ace of Spades
Hiss sinister-wise at dead loves their Death consumes.




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