The Enemy

[squirmelia]

'My youth was nothing but a lowering storm
occasionally lanced by sudden suns;
torrential rains have done their work so well
that no fruit ripens in my garden now.

Already the autumn of ideas has come,
and I must dig and rake and dig again
if I am to reclaim the flooded soil
collapsing into holes the size of graves.

I dream of new flowers, but who can tell
if this eroded swamp of mine affords
the mystic nourishment on which they thrive...

Time consumes existence pain by pain,
and the hidden enemy that gnaws our heart
feeds on the blood we lose, and flourishes!'
- Charles Baudelaire. Translation by Richard Howard (1982).

Comments

[rosyatrandom.livejournal.com]

Oh cripes, yes, happy birthday for Sunday gone! How was it?

[alandriscoll.livejournal.com]

Yes OK, you're only 30, a bit early for the "eroded swamp where no fruit ripens", don't you think?

[squirmelia.livejournal.com]

Maybe that will be when I'm 130, but I liked the poem anyway.

[the-elyan.livejournal.com]

Great poem.

As I said before , you can (and, I think, will) survive your thirties being excatly as childlike and filled with wonder as you ever were, though it does get a little bit harder.

Good luck, and much love.

[tlrmx.org (from livejournal.com)]

It was really nice to see you.