Burying Baudelaire      

In memory of Charles Pierre Baudelaire

(April 9, 1821 - August 31, 1867)

Monkfish (Aka. The Flowers of Plenty)

              “Thick and ridiculous; wealth of it, a blinding plenty.”

             —From “Snow Drones” by Jill McDonough


if from within a field
     of plenty

     may there a barrow be
          (buried deep)

          “innocence & youth”
                 we’ll borrow

     till an aural presence
           is released

absence of emotion
     shall follow

       an aural spirit
            je suis*                           * I follow

           if from within a field
                of plenty

     may a just colza be
           blind & free!

                                                  --May 4, 2016  


by Charles Baudelaire

Translated from the French

by Allen Hagar

If on one slow and somber night
A good Christian, with charity
Behind some old ruin
Should inter your celebrated body

At the hour when the chaste stars
Close their heavy eyes
There the spider will curl its web
And the viper its little ones

You will hear throughout all the years
Upon your condemned head
The lamentable cry of the wolf

And some starving witches
The play of old men
And the complicity of the dark thief.     

La Fin de la journée

by Charles Baudelaire

Translated from the French

by Allen Hagar

By the twilight’s last gleaming
Dances and twists for no reason
Impertinent and discordant Life.
So, immediately in the distance

Sensuously the night arises
Satisfying all, even hunger
Erasing all, even shame
The Poet has said: “Finally!

My mind, like my vertebrae
Ardently invokes rest, with
My heart full of funereal dreams

I will lie upon my back
And cover myself with your covers
O innocent and refreshing darkness!”