Former Life

I lived a long time under vast galleries
Which the marine suns tinted with a thousand fires
And whose great pillars, straight and majestic
Rendered them at evening like basalt caves

The waves, in rolling the images of the skies
Mixed in a fashion solemn and mystic
The all-powerful chords of their rich music
With the colours of the sunset reflected by my eyes.

It's there where I have lived, in calm ecstasies
In the middle of the blue, of the waves, of splendours
And of nude slaves all soaked in scent

Who refreshed my forehead with palms
And whose only care was to probe and deepen
The painful secret that made me languish.

The Former Life (rough)

I lived a long time under vast porticos
Which the marine suns tinted with a thousand fires
And which their great pillars, straight and majestic
Made the same, the evening, as basalt caves

The waves, in rolling the images of the skies
Mixed in a fashion solemn and mystic
The all-powerful chords of their rich music
With the colours of the sunset reflected by my eyes.

It's there where I have lived, in calm sensual pleasures
In the middle of the blue sky, of the waves, of splendours
And of nude slaves all saturated with scents

Who refreshed my forehead with palms
And whose only care was to probe and deepen
The painful secret that made me languish.

La vie anterieur

J´ai longtemps habité sous des vastes portiques
Que les soleils marins teignaient de mille feux
Et que leurs grands piliers, droits et majestueux
Rendaient pariels, le soir, aux grottes basaltiques.

Les houles, en roulant les images des cieux,
Mêlaient d´une façon solonelle et mystique
Les tout-puissants accords de leur riche musique
Aux couleurs du couchant reflété par mes yeux.

C´est là que j´ai vécu, dans les voluptés calmes,
Au milieu de l´azur, des vagues, des splendeurs
Et des esclaves nus, tout imprégnés d´odeurs

Qui me refraîchissaient le front avec des palmes,
Et dont l´unique soin était d´approfondir
Le secret douloureux qui me faisait languir.

The Curse

To lift a weight so heavy
Sisiphus, would take your courage
Even though I've heart for the task
Art is long, and time is short

Far from celebrated tombs
Towards my isolated grave
My heart like a broken drum
Goes beating out funeral marches

Many a jewel buried sleeps
In shadows and neglect
Far, far from picks and probes

Many a flower pours out in regret
Its perfume, sweet as a secret
In solitude profound.

Ill luck (Roy Campbell)

Stolen from the wonderful fleursdumal.org:
A more optimistic version.


III Luck
 
So huge a burden to support
Your courage, Sisyphus, would ask;
Well though my heart attacks its task,
Yet Art is long and Time is short.


Far from the famed memorial arch
Towards a lonely grave I come.
My heart in its funereal march
Goes beating like a muffled drum.


— Yet many a gem lies hidden still
Of whom no pick-axe, spade, or drill
The lonely secrecy invades;


And many a flower, to heal regret,
Pours forth its fragrant secret yet
Amidst the solitary shades.


— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)

The Curse (rough)

To lift a weight so heavy
Sisiphus it would take your courage
Even though I have heart for the task
Art is long, and time is short

Far from celebrated tombs
Towards an isolated cemetery
My heart like a broken drum
Goes beating its funeral marches

Many a jewel sleeps buried
In shadows and neglect
Well far from picks and probes

Many a flower pours out in regret
Its perfume, sweet as a secret
In the profound solitudes.

Le Guignon

Pour soulever un poids si lourd,
Sisyphe, il faudrait ton courage!
Bien qu´on ait du coeur à l´ouvrage,
L´Art est long, et le Temps est court.

Loin des sépultures célèbres,
Vers un cimetière isolé,
Mon coeur, comme un tambour voilé,
Va battant des marches funèbres.

-- Maint joyau dort enseveli
Dans les ténèbres et l´oubli,
Bien loin des pioches et des sondes;

Mainte fleur épanche à regret
Son parfum doux comme un secret
Dans les solitudes profondes.