Charles Baudelaire

(9 April 1821 – 31 August 1867 / Paris)

Charles Baudelaire Poems

81. Hymn 3/31/2010
82. Parisian Dream 3/31/2010
83. L'Idéal (The Ideal) 3/31/2010
84. Mist And Rain 3/31/2010
85. Ciel Brouillé (Cloudy Sky) 3/31/2010
86. Les Bijoux (The Jewels) 3/31/2010
87. La Beauté (Beauty) 3/31/2010
88. Horreur Sympathique (Sympathetic Horror) 3/31/2010
89. Châtiment De L'Orgueil (The Punishment Of Pride) 3/31/2010
90. The Irreparable 3/31/2010
91. The Void 3/31/2010
92. Obsession 3/31/2010
93. Le Masque (The Mask) 3/31/2010
94. Epilogue 3/31/2010
95. Chanson D'Après-Midi (Afternoon Song) 3/31/2010
96. Chant D'Automne (Song Of Autumn) 3/31/2010
97. Le Chat (The Cat) 3/31/2010
98. Le Poison (The Poison) 3/31/2010
99. La Muse Malade (The Sick Muse) 3/31/2010
100. Je T'Adore À L'Égal De La Voûte Nocturne (More Than Night's Vault, It's You That I Adore) 3/31/2010
101. The Death Of Lovers 3/31/2010
102. L'Horloge (The Clock) 3/31/2010
103. Confession 3/31/2010
104. Franciscae Meae Laudes (Praises Of My Francesca) 3/31/2010
105. The Sun 3/31/2010
106. Causerie (Conversation) 3/31/2010
107. L’ Étranger 3/31/2010
108. The Sunset Of Romanticism 3/31/2010
109. L'Albatros (The Albatross) 3/31/2010
110. Le Mort Joyeux (The Joyful Corpse) 3/31/2010
111. The Voice 3/31/2010
112. L'Héautontimorouménos (The Man Who Tortures Himself) 3/31/2010
113. A Une Madone (To A Madonna) 3/31/2010
114. Le Revenant (The Ghost) 3/31/2010
115. The Owls 3/31/2010
116. Avec Ses Vêtements Ondoyants Et Nacrés (With Waving Opalescense In Her Gown) 3/31/2010
117. Lethe 1/3/2003
118. The Litanies Of Satan 3/31/2010
119. Hymne À La Beauté (Hymn To Beauty) 3/31/2010
120. Bohémiens En Voyage (Gypsies On The Road) 3/31/2010

Comments about Charles Baudelaire

  • A disinterested bystander (11/24/2017 1:15:00 PM)

    Baudelaire's great talent I suppose was distilling sour grapes into eloquence.

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (6/9/2016 1:03:00 PM)

    '' Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato enough to adapt to the lyrical stirrings of the soul, the undulations of dreams, and sudden leaps of consciousness. This obsessive idea is above all a child of giant cities, of the intersecting of their myriad relations. ''

    (from:  Dedication of 'Le Spleen de Paris' *

    * also known as 'Paris Spleen' or 'Petits Poèmes en prose'

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (6/9/2016 1:02:00 PM)

    '' Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato enough to adapt to the lyrical stirrings of the soul, the undulations of dreams, and sudden leaps of consciousness. This obsessive idea is above all a child of giant cities, of the intersecting of their myriad relations. ''

    (from:  Dedication of 'Le Spleen de Paris' *

    * also known as 'Paris Spleen' or 'Petits Poèmes en prose'

  • Shobana Gomes Shobana Gomes (4/28/2014 5:54:00 AM)

    His poems tread on the catchy-ness of his phrases. Love it.

  • Lucianne Fasolo (9/26/2007 8:54:00 AM)

    Ah, Baudelaire. The forefather of modern poetry, and also of the French Symbolism. He had a unique style, his poems were flawless and beautiful. And he's one of my favorite poets ever, :)

  • ari anna arena (1/17/2007 1:30:00 AM)

    Why no 'Le Balcon'? A bella poesia.

  • Geneva Henderson (1/30/2006 12:53:00 PM)

    This is one of those cool poems. It makes you think. Personally I love Baudelaire. He has a beautiful rythem and sound that enchants me and inspires me.

Best Poem of Charles Baudelaire

Be Drunk

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
that is groaning, everything ...

Read the full of Be Drunk

Lethe

Come to my heart, cruel, insensible one,
Adored tiger, monster with the indolent air;
I would for a long time plunge my trembling fingers
Into the heavy tresses of your hair;

And in your garments that exhale your perfume
I would bury my aching head,
And breathe, like a withered flower,
The sweet, stale reek of my love that is dead.

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