Harmonie du Soir - Charles Baudelaire

Harmonie du Soir

Voici venir les temps où vibrant sur sa tige
Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l'air du soir;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!

Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Le violon frémit comme un cœur qu'on afflige;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir.

Le violon frémit comme un cœur qu'on afflige,
Un cœur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir;
Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige.

Un cœur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir,
Du passé lumineux recueille tout vestige!
Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige...
Ton souvenir en moi luit comme un ostensoir!



Harmony of Evening

Here coming is the time when on its stem will blow
Each flower, like a censer, now evaporating.
The sounds and the perfumes turn in the air of evening,
A melancholy waltz and languid vertigo!

Each flower, like a censer, now evaporating,
The violin is quivering like a heart in woe,
A melancholy waltz and languid vertigo!
The sky is sad and lovely, like a great repose.

The violin is quivering like a heart in woe,
A tender heart, which hates vast, black oblivion!
The sky is sad and lovely, like a great repose.
The sun is drowned in its own blood which thickens.

A tender heart which hates vast, black oblivion
Collects all vestiges from bygone luminance!
The sun is drowned in its own blood which thickens…
Your remembrance shone within me like a monstrance!

The season is at hand when swaying on its stem
Every flower exhales perfume like a censer;
Sounds and perfumes turn in the evening air;
Melancholy waltz and languid vertigo!

Every flower exhales perfume like a censer;
The violin quivers like a tormented heart;
Melancholy waltz and languid vertigo!
The sky is sad and beautiful like an immense altar.

The violin quivers like a tormented heart,
A tender heart, that hates the vast, black void!
The sky is sad and beautiful like an immense altar;
The sun has drowned in his blood which congeals...

A tender heart that hates the vast, black void
Gathers up every shred of the luminous past!
The sun has drowned in his blood which congeals...
Your memory in me glitters like a monstrance!