Charles Baudelaire

Very Far From Here

This is the sacred dwelling In which that much adorned maiden Calm and always prepared Listens to the fountains weeping, Fanning her breast with her hand, Her elbow resting on the cushions; It's the bedroom of Dorothy. - Far off the breeze and waters sing Their broken, sobbing song To lull to sleep this pampered child. From head to foot, with greatest care Her delicate skin is polished With perfumed oil and benzoin. - Flowers swoon in a corner. Translated by - William Aggeler Ever So Far from Here This is the house, the sacred box, Where, always draped in languorous frocks, And always at home if someone knocks, One elbow into the pillow pressed, She lies, and lazily fans her breast, While fountains weep their soulfullest: This is the chamber of Dorothy. - Fountain and breeze for her alone Sob in that soothing undertone. Was ever so spoiled a harlot known? With odorous oils and rosemary, Benzoin and every unguent grown, Her skin is rubbed most delicately. - The flowers are faint with ecstasy. Translated by - Edna St. Vincent Millay Far Away From Here This is the room, the sacred nest Of that girl so richly dressed, Tranquil and ready for her guest. With one hand she fans her nipples Elbow on the couch at rest Listening to the ponds and ripples. This room is Dorothy's. The play Of wind and water, far away, With fainting song and rhythmic sobs, Through her reverie hums and throbs. From head to toe with greatest care Her skin is polished, to adorn her With benjamin and oils as rare... Some flowers are swooning in a corner. Translated by - Roy Campbell

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