Harmonie Du Soir - Acrostic Translation Charles Baudelaire Les Fleurs Du Mal Xvii Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

HARMONIE DU SOIR

Mark now the days have come where bloom on stem addressed
A-tremble spreads scent balm upon soft evening air
Unveiling perfumed calm and background sounds full fair
Dream waltz-mode stately-sad and langour’s dizziness
Enchanting spread scent balm upon soft evening air –
Music from violin as in heart sorely pressed.
A waltz-mode stately-sad and humour hard oppressed.
Under sky beauty-sad, as altar dressed for prayer.
Drawn violin soft sings heart burden hard to bear,
Echoes to tender soul detesting emptiness,
Mirroring sad sky nigh, yet like an altar dressed,
As sun drowns, set in blood, blood-red, sere, set, see there!
United hearts are guessed that stark dark nights detest,
Dawn recalls lost past’s light each remnant’s traced with care.
Even's bloodset sun drowns reflections everywhere,
Canvas your memory, my sacred relic blessed.


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2 April 2006 revised 11 October 2008

Acrostic Translation Charles BAUDELAIRE Les Fleurs du Mal XVII For previous version see below
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Harmonie du Soir

Mark now the days have come where bloom on stem addressed
A-tremble spreads its balm upon the evening air
Revealing perfumed calm and background sounds full fair
In waltz-mode stately-sad and langour’s dizziness
At last to spead its balm upon the evening air –
Music from violin as in heart sorely pressed.
A waltz-mode stately-sad and humour hard oppressed.
My sky, too, beauty-sad, as altar dressed for prayer.
A violin soft sings heart burden hard to bear,
Replies to tender soul detesting emptiness,
It echoes sad sky nigh, yet like an altar dressed,
As sun drowns, set in blood, blood-red, sere, set, see there!
May tender heart be guessed that dark night does destest,
Although of lost past’s light each remnant’s traced with care.
Drowning sun, set in blood, reflections everywhere,
Draws your portrait for me, a sacred relic blessed.

2 April 2006
Charles BAUDELAIRE Les Fleurs du Mal XVII
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HARMONIE DU SOIR
Voici venir les temps où vibrant sur sa tige
Chaque fleur s’évapore ainsi qu’en encensoir;
Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!

Chaque fleur s’évapore ainsi qu’en encensoir;
Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu’on afflige;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir.

Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu’on afflige;
Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir.
Le soleil s’est noyé dans son sang qui se fige.

Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir!
Du passé lumineux recueille tout vestige!
Le soleil s’est noyé dans son sang qui se fige.
Ton souvenir en moi luit comme un ostensoir!


Charles BAUDELAIRE Les Fleurs du Mal XVII

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