Читать книгу Poems of Baudelaire (Les Fleurs du Mal) - Charles Baudelaire - Страница 13
ОглавлениеThe Enemy
| My youth was but a tempest, dark and savage, Through which, at times, a dazzling sun would shoot. The thunder and the rain have made such ravage My garden is nigh bare of rosy fruit. Now I have reached the Autumn of my thought, And spade and rake must toil the land to save, That fragments of my flooded fields be sought From where the water sluices out a grave. Who knows if the new flowers my dreams prefigure, In this washed soil should find, as by a sluit, The mystic nourishment to give them vigour? Time swallows up our life, O ruthless rigour! And the dark foe that nibbles our heart’s root, Grows on our blood the stronger and the bigger! |
