How does time, the history of France and Europe, the history of ideas, scientific and technological progress change Baudelaire s vision and poetics to the point of bringing it into modernity to be one of the initiators In the Spleen of Paris, Baudelaire becomes a man of the street, ranger, voyeur and clairvoyant It is in this great fascinating and repulsive city that Paris is that Baudelaire seeks his inspiration and no longer in the spectacle of nature.
It is here, in this place of debauchery and wanderings from which beauty sometimes arises, that it expands the field of inner experience.
Turning his back on conventional poetry, he then enters modernity.
Lisbon Book Fair 2016.
Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato enough to adapt to the lyrical stirrings of the soul, the undulations of dreams, and sudden leaps of consciousness.
Contrary to popular belief, I had never read Baudelaire until now I ve trusted Walter Benjamin and lately Calasso to provide me with a well informed ethos about this central figure There are many concerns that this is the literature of the young, to which I shout, absurd This is the lettres of the Absolute, the eternally curious Below the bile, there is a hum of sensitivity Behind the debris are the tears of the sensitive Is it forgiving, likely not There is a buzzing pulse at play, a hum and a forgiving glance.
I have this book by my bed Before I drop my eyes into deep sleep I like to read a page or two of this book It gives me a certain sense of dreams Wonderful dreams.
Mon temp rament est bien loign du sien il aime l ombre et les contrastes, je pr f re la lumi re et la clart il aime l ivresse et la douleur, je pr f re le calme et la s r nit Et pourtant, il a r ussi me faire vibrer, m envouter, me transmettre ses motions Cette mani re d enchanter le r el dans ce qu il a de plus sordide ou de plus trivial, m a agr ablement surpris, charm et conquis Une tr s belle collection de textes po tiques en prose.
Tell me, enigmatical man, whom do you love best, your father,your mother, your sister, or your brother I have neither father, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother.
Your friends Now you use a word whose meaning I have never known.
Your country I do not know in what latitude it lies.
Beauty I could indeed love her, Goddess and Immortal.
Gold I hate it as you hate God.
Then what do you love, extraordinary stranger I love the cloudsthe clouds that passup there up therethe wonderful clouds From Edouard Manet To T S Eliot To Jim Morrison, The Reach Of Charles Baudelaire S Influence Is Beyond Estimation In This Prize Winning Translation Of His No Longer Neglected Masterpiece, Baudelaire Offers A Singular View Of S Paris Evoking A M Lange Of Reactions, These Fifty Fables Of Modern Life Take Us On Various Tours Led By A Fl Neur, An Incognito StrollerThrough Day And Night, In Gleaming Caf S And Filthy Side Streets, This Alienated Yet Compassionate Esthete Muses On The Bizarre In The Commonplace, The Sublime In The Mundane As The Work Reveals A Teeming Metropolis On The Eve Of Great Change, We See A Paris As Contradictory, Surprising, And Ultimately Unknowable As Our Guide Himself Superbly Complemented By Twenty One Period Illustrations By Delacroix, Callot, Manet, Whistler, Baudelaire Himself, And Others, The Parisian Prowler Is An Essential Companion To Les Fleurs Du Mal And Other Works By The Father Of Modern Poetry In The Preface To This Edition, Translator Edward K Kaplan Explains How The Volume S Illustrations Act As A Graphic Subtext To The Narrator S Observations I feel odd labeling a book of poetry as read That s not how a book of poetry is appreciated It s not the simple act of opening to page one, reading each page in a linear fashion, then putting it back on the shelf or in this case, closing the Kindle Poetry is something that one must refer back to again and again The images sit in the back of the mind waiting to be recalled again Then, when the mood strikes, you jump to the bookcase and frantically flip the pages to find that image once again, to find that perfect phrase, that lucid expression that just sits there like an enigmatic cat, unmoving with deep set eyes that flash and hint at some mysterious profundity.
This is true at least of the good poetry and Baudelaire gives us bags and bags full of those enigmatic cats please excuse the cruel metaphor in this collection I m not sure why Le fleurs de mal gets all the attention These prose poems read so much pure and uninhibited by the confines of poetic tradition How can one resist such a beautiful manifesto to life as this One must be for ever drunken that is the sole question of importance If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time that bruises your shoulders and bends you to the earth, you must be drunken without cease But how With wine, with poetry, with virtue, with what you please But be drunken Twisting the notion of intoxication and turning the Enlightenment, with its glorious seekers of truth and justice, on its head feels so wonderfully perverse There is a heavy dose of Romanticism in this phrase as there is at the core of much of Baudelaire s work, but I read it as a mature Romanticism Not the naive idealism and ignorant aspirations that killed Madame Bovary, but a Romanticism that s willing to look at life right in the eyes and kick it in the teeth if need be Baudelaire seems to be someone who was attracted to the exuberance of Romanticism, but who was unwilling the accept the falseness of it.
Maybe we could call this a pragmatic Romanticism, or a realistic Romanticism Hoping for the ideal while accepting the real One example of this can be seen in Artist s Confiteor which is a form of prayer confessing sins, used in the Roman Catholic Mass and some other sacraments The poem starts with a romantic description of an autumn day The sky and the sea The immensity of Infinity The Silence The Solitude Then, it all becomes too much Now the profound depth of the sky dismays me its purity irritates me Here we have a realistic relationship between man and nature, Beauty and the artist, which leads to the final line of the poem The study of beauty is a duel in which the artist shrieks with terror before being overcome.
I never really understood the appeal of Les Fleurs du Mal, but so many people love it that I started to feel bad What was I missing Along comes this book, Paris Spleen, which is full of prose poems made of equal parts humor, cynicism, and insight and often all three within a paragraph I like these poems because reading it, I feel like I have a sense of who Baudelaire might have been as a person Plus, his humor is so odd Soup and CloudsMy adorable little minx was serving me supper through the dining room s open window I was contemplating the shifting architectures God creates from vapour, those marvellous constructions of the evanescent As I watched, I thought Those apparitions are nearly as beautiful as my sweet lady s eyes, the mad little green eyed monster Suddenly a violent fist landed in my back and I heard a charming, raw voice hysterical and brandy damaged, the voice of my little darling, saying Get on with your bloody soup, cloud merchant.
Sonra, ya am ylesine etin olan Zaman ld rmek, ylesine a r akan Ya am h zland rmak i in yeni i eler getirttiler