Les Hiboux (The Owls) by Charles Baudelaire
It's French Week at The Epicurean Vagabonds!
Welcome to French week at The Epicurean Vagabonds! Right now we are in Paris, and for our upcoming Mid-Week Libation (Wednesday) and Aesthetic Arrest Podcast (Friday) we decided to focus on all things French. But first, let’s commence with an audio reading (in both French and English) by Ryan Wildstar of a poem by one of our favorite French poets: Charles Baudelaire!
From The Flowers of Evil Owls by Charles Baudelaire (translated by Cyril Scott) Beneath the shades of sombre yews, The silent owls sit ranged in rows, Like ancient idols, strangely pose, And darting fiery eyes, they muse. Immovable, they sit and gaze, Until the melancholy hour, At which the darknesses devour The faded sunset's slanting rays. Their attitude, instructs the wise, That he — within this world — who flies From tumult and from merriment; The man allured by a passing face, For ever bears the chastisement Of having wished to change his place.
From Les Fleurs du mal Les Hiboux by Charles Baudelaire Sous les ifs noirs qui les abritent Les hiboux se tiennent rangés Ainsi que des dieux étrangers Dardant leur oeil rouge. Ils méditent. Sans remuer ils se tiendront Jusqu'à l'heure mélancolique Où, poussant le soleil oblique, Les ténèbres s'établiront. Leur attitude au sage enseigne Qu'il faut en ce monde qu'il craigne Le tumulte et le mouvement; L'homme ivre d'une ombre qui passe Porte toujours le châtiment D'avoir voulu changer de place.
I have never actually heard you speak French. That was absolutely exquisite!