Charles Baudelaire

Evening Harmony

The season is at hand when swaying on its stem Every flower exhales perfume like a censer; Sounds and perfumes turn in the evening air; Melancholy waltz and languid vertigo! Every flower exhales perfume like a censer; The violin quivers like a tormented heart; Melancholy waltz and languid vertigo! The sky is sad and beautiful like an immense altar. The violin quivers like a tormented heart, A tender heart, that hates the vast, black void! The sky is sad and beautiful like an immense altar; The sun has drowned in his blood which congeals... A tender heart that hates the vast, black void Gathers up every shred of the luminous past! The sun has drowned in his blood which congeals... Your memory in me glitters like a monstrance! Translated by - William Aggeler Evening Harmony Now is the time when trembling on its stem Each flower fades away like incense; Sounds and scents turn in the evening air; A melancholy waltz, a soft and giddy dizziness! Each flower fades away like incense; The violin thrills like a tortured heart; A melancholy waltz, a soft and giddy dizziness! The sky is sad and beautiful like some great resting-place. The violin thrills like a tortured heart, A tender heart, hating the wide black void. The sky is sad and beautiful like some great resting-place; The sun drowns itself in its own clotting blood. A tender heart, boring the wide black void, Gathers all trace from the pellucid past. The sun drowns itself in clotting blood. Like the Host shines O your memory in me! Translated by - Geoffrey Wagner Harmonie du soir the hours approach when vibrant in the breeze, a censer swoons to every swaying flower; blown tunes and scents in turn enchant the bower; languorous waltz of swirling fancies these! a censer swoons in every swaying flower; the quivering violins cry out, decrease; languorous waltz of swirling fancies these! mournful and fair the heavenly altars tower. the quivering violins cry out, decrease; like hearts of love the Void must overpower! mournful and fair the heavenly altars tower. the drowned sun bleeds in fast congealing seas. a heart of love the Void must overpower peers for a vanished day's last vestiges! the drowned sun bleeds in fast congealing seas... and like a Host thy flaming memories flower! Translated by - Lewis Piaget Shanks Evening Harmony The hour approacheth, when, as their stems incline, The flowers evaporate like an incense urn, And sounds and scents in the vesper breezes turn; A melancholy waltz - and a drowsiness divine. The flowers evaporate like an incense urn, The viol vibrates like the wailing of souls that repine. A melancholy waltz - and a drowsiness divine, The skies like a mosque are beautiful and stern. The viol vibrates like the wailing of souls that repine; Sweet souls that shrink from chaos vast and etern, The skies like a mosque are beautiful and stern, The sunset drowns within its blood-red brine. Sweet souls that shrink from chaos vast and etern, Essay the wreaths of their faded Past to entwine, The sunset drowns within its blood-red brine, Thy thought within me glows like an incense urn. Translated by - Cyril Scott Evening Harmony Now comes the eve, when on its stem vibrates Each flower, evaporating like a censer; When sounds and scents in the dark air grow denser; Drowsed swoon through which a mournful waltz pulsates! Each flower evaporates as from a censer; The fiddle like a hurt heart palpitates; Drowsed swoon through which a mournful waltz pulsates; The sad, grand sky grows, altar-like, immenser. The fiddle, like a hurt heart, palpitates, A heart that hates oblivion, ruthless censor. The sad, grand sky grows, altar-like, immenser. The sun in its own blood coagulates... A heart that hates oblivion, ruthless censor, The whole of the bright past resuscitates. The sun in its own blood coagulates... And, monstrance-like, your memory flames intenser! Translated by - Roy Campbell

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