Dans ce po�me qui est un des plus c�l�bres qui figurent dans Les Fleurs du Mal, Baudelaire se sert du cadre de la chanson d'amour traditionelle et idealisante afin d'explorer les r�alit�s psychologiques. L'�vocation d'aversion pour la superficialit� de l'allocutaire avec ses "tra�tres yeux", dans un "pays qui [la] ressemble" (ce qui rend le pays d'autant plus trompeur) se m�le au plaisir v�ridique que prend le locuteur au luxe superficiel. Baudelaire a donc recours a ce m�lange, bariolure de sentiments, pour communiquer au lecteur ce qui aurait �t� � l'�poque une id�e tout � fait nouvelle dans la po�sie (fran�aise, en tout cas): qu'il est possible de prendre plaisir aux choses superficielles de ce monde sans devenir soi-m�me superficiel. Il s'agit ici d'une invitation adress�e autant � l'allocutaire qu'au lecteur, invitation de se pr�lasser dans la tra�tre beaut� du r�el.
In this poem, one of the most famous in the Flowers of Evil, Baudelaire employs the framework of the traditional ideal-ridden lovesong so as to explore psychological realities. The invocation of dislike for the addressee's superficiality with her "Traitor eyes" in a "land that looks like [her]" (thereby rendering this land all the more deceptive) blends into the honest pleasure which the speaker finds in superficial sumptuousness. Baudelaire thus resorts to a melding of sense and sensations in order to convey to the reader what was at the time quite a novel idea in (french) poetry: that one may enjoy superficialities without becoming superficial oneself. The invitation, here, is addressed as much to the reader as to the original woman, an invitation to bask in the traitorous beauty of reality.
Invitation to the Voyage
Charles Baudelaire
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me recite the French
My sisterchild, my dear!
Imagine going there
Gently to live together, just us two,
To love and think not why
To love and live and die
Together in the land that is like you.
The soaking suns that rise
Through those cloud-raveled skies
Will move me with the selfsame mystery
And witchery that lie
Within each traitor eye
That shines out through your tears to look at me.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
A furniture that bears
The polishing of years
Will be the decoration of our chamber,
The very rarest blooms
Commingling their perfumes
With vague and sundry redolence of amber.
Those ceilings richly wrought,
And mirrors deep as thought,
And walls with oriental splendor hung
They all would speak apart
To nothing but the heart
In nothing but its tender mother tongue.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
See vessels in the sweep
Of those canals, asleep,
Whose way it is to wander from their berth.
See how, to answer some
Small wish of yours, they come
Our way through all the waters of this earth.
At close of day the sun
Robes hayfields one by one,
Then the canals, and soon the town outright,
In hyacinth and gold;
The world that we behold
Subsides to slumber in a warm low light.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
The Original:
Invitation au Voyage
Mon enfant, ma soeur,
Songe � la douceur,
D'aller l�-bas, vivre ensemble!
Aimer � loisir,
Aimer et mourir,
Au pays qui te ressemble!
Les soleils mouill�s,
De ces ciels brouill�s,
Pour mon esprit ont les charmes,
Si myst�rieux,
De tes traitres yeux,
Brillant � travers leurs larmes.
L�, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaut�,
Luxe, calme et volupt�.
Des meubles luisants,
Polis par les ans,
D�coreraient notre chambre;
Les plus rares fleurs
M�lant leurs odeurs
Aux vagues senteurs de l'ambre,
Les riches plafonds,
Les miroirs profonds,
La splendeur orientale,
Tout y parlerait
A l'�me en secret
Sa douce langue natale.
L�, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaut�,
Luxe, calme et volupt�.
Vois sur ces canaux
Dormir ces vaisseaux
Dont l'humeur est vagabonde;
C'est pour assouvir
Ton moindre d�sir
Qu'ils viennent du bout du monde.
Les soleils couchants
Rev�tent les champs
Les canaux, la ville enti�re
D'hyacinthe et d'or;
Le monde s'endort
Dans une chaude lumi�re
L�, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaut�,
Luxe, calme et volupt�.
In this poem, one of the most famous in the Flowers of Evil, Baudelaire employs the framework of the traditional ideal-ridden lovesong so as to explore psychological realities. The invocation of dislike for the addressee's superficiality with her "Traitor eyes" in a "land that looks like [her]" (thereby rendering this land all the more deceptive) blends into the honest pleasure which the speaker finds in superficial sumptuousness. Baudelaire thus resorts to a melding of sense and sensations in order to convey to the reader what was at the time quite a novel idea in (french) poetry: that one may enjoy superficialities without becoming superficial oneself. The invitation, here, is addressed as much to the reader as to the original woman, an invitation to bask in the traitorous beauty of reality.
Invitation to the Voyage
Charles Baudelaire
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me recite the French
My sisterchild, my dear!
Imagine going there
Gently to live together, just us two,
To love and think not why
To love and live and die
Together in the land that is like you.
The soaking suns that rise
Through those cloud-raveled skies
Will move me with the selfsame mystery
And witchery that lie
Within each traitor eye
That shines out through your tears to look at me.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
A furniture that bears
The polishing of years
Will be the decoration of our chamber,
The very rarest blooms
Commingling their perfumes
With vague and sundry redolence of amber.
Those ceilings richly wrought,
And mirrors deep as thought,
And walls with oriental splendor hung
They all would speak apart
To nothing but the heart
In nothing but its tender mother tongue.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
See vessels in the sweep
Of those canals, asleep,
Whose way it is to wander from their berth.
See how, to answer some
Small wish of yours, they come
Our way through all the waters of this earth.
At close of day the sun
Robes hayfields one by one,
Then the canals, and soon the town outright,
In hyacinth and gold;
The world that we behold
Subsides to slumber in a warm low light.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
The Original:
Invitation au Voyage
Mon enfant, ma soeur,
Songe � la douceur,
D'aller l�-bas, vivre ensemble!
Aimer � loisir,
Aimer et mourir,
Au pays qui te ressemble!
Les soleils mouill�s,
De ces ciels brouill�s,
Pour mon esprit ont les charmes,
Si myst�rieux,
De tes traitres yeux,
Brillant � travers leurs larmes.
L�, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaut�,
Luxe, calme et volupt�.
Des meubles luisants,
Polis par les ans,
D�coreraient notre chambre;
Les plus rares fleurs
M�lant leurs odeurs
Aux vagues senteurs de l'ambre,
Les riches plafonds,
Les miroirs profonds,
La splendeur orientale,
Tout y parlerait
A l'�me en secret
Sa douce langue natale.
L�, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaut�,
Luxe, calme et volupt�.
Vois sur ces canaux
Dormir ces vaisseaux
Dont l'humeur est vagabonde;
C'est pour assouvir
Ton moindre d�sir
Qu'ils viennent du bout du monde.
Les soleils couchants
Rev�tent les champs
Les canaux, la ville enti�re
D'hyacinthe et d'or;
Le monde s'endort
Dans une chaude lumi�re
L�, tout n'est qu'ordre et beaut�,
Luxe, calme et volupt�.
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