Nu imi place limba franceza. De ce nu imi place din cauza modului in care la un moment dat am fost obligat sa incerc sa o invat . Eram foarte mic, am fost dus intr-un loc nou, unde nu mi-au placut in primul rind oamenii care trebuiau sa ma invete.
Dar nu despre asta este acest post. Ci despre o alta poezie care imi place foarte mult. Si da … e in franceza … Florile raului. Aveti mai jos poezia in Franceza si una din traducerile in engleza
Don Juan aux enfers
Quand Don Juan descendit vers l’onde souterraine
Et lorsqu’il eut donné son obole à Charon,
Un sombre mendiant, l’oeil fier comme Antisthène,
D’un bras vengeur et fort saisit chaque aviron.
Montrant leurs seins pendants et leurs robes ouvertes,
Des femmes se tordaient sous le noir firmament,
Et, comme un grand troupeau de victimes offertes,
Derrière lui traînaient un long mugissement.
Sganarelle en riant lui réclamait ses gages,
Tandis que Don Luis avec un doigt tremblant
Montrait à tous les morts errant sur les rivages
Le fils audacieux qui railla son front blanc.
Frissonnant sous son deuil, la chaste et maigre Elvire,
Près de l’époux perfide et qui fut son amant,
Semblait lui réclamer un suprême sourire
Où brillât la douceur de son premier serment.
Tout droit dans son armure, un grand homme de pierre
Se tenait à la barre et coupait le flot noir;
Mais le calme héros, courbé sur sa rapière,
Regardait le sillage et ne daignait rien voir.
— Charles Baudelaire
Don Juan in Hell
When, having reached the subterranean wave,
Don Juan paid his passage from the shore,
Proud as Antisthenes, a surly knave
With vengeful arms laid hold of either oar.
With hanging breasts between their mantles showing
Sad women, writhing under the black sky,
Made, as they went, the sound of cattle lowing
As from a votive herd that’s led to die.
Sganarelle for his wages seemed to linger,
And laughed; while to the dead assembled there,
Don Luis pointed out with trembling finger
The son who dared to flout his silver hair.
Chilled in her crepe, the chaste and thin Elvira,
Standing up close to her perfidious spouse,
Seemed to be pleading from her old admirer
For that which thrilled his first, unbroken vows.
A great stone man in armour leaped aboard;
Seizing the helm, the coal-black wave he cleft.
But the calm hero, leaning on his sword,
Had eyes for nothing but the wake they left.
— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire
Si se potriveste cu muzica …