The Collected Poems of Georges Bataille

by Georges Bataille, Mark Spitzer (Translator)

This is the first collected English translation of Georges Bataille's poems. Bataille's poetry is definitely the poetry of a philosopher, but it is also a poetry with an obsessively erotic, often scatological edge to it, frequently pushing the boundary of what is or isn't obscene. Bataille believed that everything relates to the workings of desire and death in sexuality, but he also believed that poetry was the product of ""hate"" (and other extreme emotions), just as much as erotic pleasure accedes to self-annihilation. But Bataille was interested in actual action, not just disengaged hypothesis concerning the sexual act. Dufour Editions is pleased to bring Bataille's poetry to print in English. ""This is the audacious, frightful side of surrealism.""-Library Journal "Bataille produced some of the most transcendent, pointedly filthy literature of the century, and these poems, together in English for the first time, are no exception." - Publishers Weekly

Genres: Poetry, Fiction, Philosophy, France, Classics, Erotica, Literature

140 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1971

About the author

French essayist, philosophical theorist, and novelist, often called the "metaphysician of evil." Bataille was interested in sex, death, degradation, and the power and potential of the obscene. He rejected traditional literature and considered that the ultimate aim of all intellectual, artistic, or religious activity should be the annihilation of the rational individual in a violent, transcendental act of communion. Roland Barthes, Julia Kristeva, and Philippe Sollers have all written enthusiastically about his work.

Reviews

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

For those familiar with the work of Georges Bataille it would come as no surprise that death and erotism are the prominent themes in this collection of poems. It didn't surprise me also that he works piss, shit, blood, semen and puss into his poems too. A small few of the more obscene poems I didn't think much of, but most, regardless of the filth, I found to be very poetic, even beautiful which may sound strange. There is a depth and intellect that might not be so easy to find at first, but it is there.

Some Poems I really liked were - I Was Dreaming Of Touching The Sadness Of The World, Night Is My Nudity, I Hurl Myself Among The Dead, Mademoiselle My Heart, The Lightning, Endless Visage, The Undifferentiated Being Is Nothing, The Dead Sun Was Illuminating The Hairy Shadow, and The Marseillaise Of Love (below) which I thought was great.

Two naked lovers sing the Marseillaise
two bloody kisses bite their heart
horses run full-speed ahead
horseman dead
village abandoned
a child cries
in the never-ending night.

[Jonfaith · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have vomited
through my nose
the arachnoid sky
my whittled temples
made it thin
I am dead
and the lilies
evaporate the water
distilled

words lack

and in the end, I do too.

I read this entire book earlier at a Half Price Books. I don't recall doing that as an adult. I think fear Bataille would approve.

[Mark · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is true anti-poetry, in that the pieces all follow the structure, by-and-large, of lyric poetry but at every point that you might expect to find some transcendent metaphor, or elevating moral impulse, there is only base materialist wallowing in filth, sex and death. As I say, great stuff. Having read a bunch of his essays, fiction, and now this poetry, Bataille's vision is amazingly consistent throughout. That whole notion of a kind of anti-matter of meaning is put forward in this range of different literary formats with a real conceptual rigor that surprised me, given some of the subject matter. It is worth noting that most of the material in this collection was written after WW2 and so, in a way, it makes a lot more sense considered alongside something like Beckett's Molloy, as opposed to the Surrealists. Having said all that, I ultimately found this volume a little too much bodily fluids, frozen nature, and abject frenzied coupling to take in in one go. I can see the pieces really standing out in the context of some literary journal like Documents or Transition, but here, notwithstanding some great lines ("the beauty of being is the depth of cellars"), once you 'get it', there's not a great deal of motivation to plough your way to the end.

[Lauren Klotz · Rating 4 out of 5]

unexpectedly HILARIOUS

[kelly]

I was Dreaming of Touching the Sadness of the World
I was dreaming of touching the sadness of the world
on the disenchanted edge of an unknown swamp
I was dreaming of a heavy water where I would find
the lost paths of your deep mouth again

In my hands I felt a filthy animal
that escaped from the night of a hideous forest
and I saw it was the evil from which you were dying
which, laughing, I call the sadness of the world

a crazy light a burst of thunder
a laugh freeing your long nudity
an immense splendor finally illuminated me

and I saw your pain like charity
radiant in the night the long clear form
and the tomb-like cry of your infinity

[Eadweard · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Poetry removes one from the night and the day at the same time."



The vicinity of -the impossible- was almost reached through the reading of 'The Archangelical' cycle of poems; The Tomb, The Dawn, The Void.

[Lucas · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bataille's poetry is so interesting, it's so vulgar and erotic yet deeply, deeply sad throughout

[Eli Walker · Rating 2 out of 5]

RIP Bataille you would have loved posting emo song lyrics as your facebook status

[Nicolò Grasso · Rating 5 out of 5]

"The alcohol
of poetry
is the silence
deceased."
____________________
A beautiful collection of poetry from Bataille that ranges from the erotic and existentialist to the pornographic and romantic. It is rare for such a selection to be more hits than misses, yet almost every poem here is excellent, moving, and richly layered.

[Jesse · Rating 2 out of 5]

Although very similar to Mark Spitzer’s 1999 translations (some even verbatim copies — I wonder how copyright laws handle something like that?), Kendall’s translations are a tad more flourished. I enjoyed them a bit more, but I still wasn’t struck by any of them in particular. I would recommend reading this translation over Spitzer’s, though.

I guess there’s a reason why Bataille isn’t known for his poetry. Sartre and Breton weren’t fans of it, either, so I feel slightly justified in dismissing it as an outlier in his oeuvre.

[Perry · Rating 3 out of 5]

Many of these poems are great, most are quite good. All would be better served with another translation.

[Peyton · Rating 4 out of 5]

"black death you are my bread"

[cosmonaut · Rating 1 out of 5]

i think this whole collection can be summed up in the one line "i get hard and i cry" ... perhaps stick to the philosophy next time, mr bataille.... (side note: i looked up the translator and he has been unemployed since 2020. i can tell)

[Tintarella]

ردپا را پاک می‌کنم
واژه را پاک می‌کنم
این‌جا
نفس
تنگ است
.
پ.ن: دوسوم کتاب مقدمه‌ست و یک‌سوم آخر، شعر

[Blake Xenos · Rating 5 out of 5]

Georges Bataille's collection of poems represents key concepts such as self-destruction and mixing desire with death. These poems contain images related to erotic love. In these poems, sexual desire hides in the shadows and leads to death, because according to Bataille's theory of eroticism, the purpose of sexual desire is to destroy the substance of the living subject. Unlike Surrealists like Burton who rejected Bataille, Bataille's poems present specific nihilistim and postmodern themes in post-war Europe. Death in Bataille's poems is sometimes very bitter and discouraging and sometimes very soft and calm, which in both cases is related to sexual passion.The narrator in Bataille's poem has a kind of foreknowledge, that is, he cries for his death and reports it at the same time. According to Bataille's opinion, poetry is the result of extreme emotions such as hatred, and the poet goes beyond nature by writing poetry. There is a poem titled "God" in the book, which is unique.

[Adrian Alvarez · Rating 4 out of 5]

THE ORATORIO

Characters

The Narrator.

The Whore, 90 years old, dying (she was adorably beautiful at 20; one day when she was naked she did for God what Aurcourt does for Duclos in 120 Days).

The Priest, 30 years old.

God, a sort of paving stone.

Not a great starting point for Bataille but for anyone familiar with his thinking and work the poetry collected in English translation here is a pure delight. He requires context to sort out why so many times a poem includes images of the narrator pissing on himself.

I have grown to love this weirdo intellectual and these collected poems have only deepened that love.

[✾ · Rating 5 out of 5]

the eroticism is somewhat explicit and though at first it threw me off it fits really well with the themes of the collection. there are verses that are so striking that they stayed with me as i read poems that weren’t as outstanding

[EIJANDOLUM · Rating 3 out of 5]

“rest yourself viper
rest yourself my heart

and let your assassin hair be free in the wind.”

What a joy it is to be his imaginary devouress, despicably loved unto death and eroticism.

[effanineffable · Rating 4 out of 5]

“I open a theatre in myself
Where a false slumber plays
A pointless trick
A disgrace that makes me sweat.

No hope
Death
The candle
Blown out.”

[thevibe300 · Rating 4 out of 5]

when georges bataille wrote “Oh death I am that stag/ Devoured by the dogs” - i just know he was in his deer era

[Harshal Bhanarkar · Rating 4 out of 5]

I came to know about Georges Bataille through "Better than Food" YouTube channel. He reviewed "The story of the eye".I read the book after some time and the whole experience of reading it was something unique and really quirky. My expectations before reading this collection of poetry weren't to high because I thought most of the poems would really be weird and would involve a lot of eroticism. And there were some poems about that but apart from that there are good poems throughout and I found some really brilliant poems as well.

the mingled teeth
of the dead
and the creakings of light
which intoxicates me
with the embrace
which chokes
with water
which cries
from the dead air
and the soul of oblivion

but nothing
I see
nothing
I do not laugh anymore
for when I laugh too much
I become transparent.

Another poem that I really liked -

Death lives in my heart
like a little widow
she sobs she is cowardly
I am afraid I could vomit
the widow laughs herself to the sky
tearing open the birds.

I think these following lines are beautiful -

I am burning up with love
a thousand candles in my mouth
a thousand stars in my head

my arms become lost in shadow
my heart falls mouth to mouth
in the depths of death.

[Maribeaux · Rating 4 out of 5]

What I saw here was a pattern of what the translator himself refers to as "excremental philosophy" in the introduction; although it has a bad connotation I believe Bataille is just brilliant in many ways even if only a few would agree with or even accept his worldview (even today after so much freedom of action and thought). Indeed Bataille always grasps and presents filth, darkness, eroticism, death, and immorality as ways towards achieving the unachievable something which himself calls in other works "limit experiences". His poetry is full of those and whether taken metaphorically, literally or read simply for the imagery, Bataille's poetry is a pleasureable mind-fuck only for the few.

[Jesse · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’m a fan of Bataille’s novels and nonfiction, but his poetry comes off more as a compilation of key words and sentence fragments than a product of intentionally crafted writing. Several poems are just a collection of loosely connected words like “sky,” “eye,” “death,” “egg,” “stone” — familiar to anyone who knows Bataille’s work, but vacant in these poems. Spitzer’s translations are often clunky and repetitive, as least from an English perspective (although, for all I know, they could be true to Bataille’s French originals). I wasn’t very impressed with any of the poems.

[Brian Washines · Rating 5 out of 5]

An introduction to Bataille. Collected Poems feels like a lush, oaken reprieve of crushed velvet and vials of obscure and occult unguents, where the senses fuel the surrealism and the shadow of death fuels the rest. There's so much to admire here, and so many lines from which to cull from it a culmination, a reckoning of transgressions and pleasures alike.

Oblivion is the friendship of the massacred man

in myself
at the bottom of an abyss
the immense universe is death

[Liam Tennant · Rating 4 out of 5]

Written as technically as a master and as disgusting as an edgy high schooler. Bataille has a knack for using his bleak, rotting mind to produce images of cosmic exisential dread and fetishistic works of erotic symbolism. Almost Cronenbergian, the way he equates genitals and sex to flesh and bloody organs. Haunting descriptions of semen aside, Bataille's visions are of death and the universe. The works of a man who housed many demons.

[Minā · Rating 3 out of 5]

The words of the poem, their indocility, their number, their insignificance, hold to the heart the impalpable instant, a kiss slowly pressed to the mouth of a dead woman, they hold the breath of that which no longer is.
The transparency of the beloved, miraculous indifference, what makes one lost, is lost in the infinite crystal of light: to never think of it again.

[Sebastian Hardin · Rating 5 out of 5]

An entertaining and thematic collection of Bataille's poetry that brought out my joy, immaturity, and introspection. At times it feels like an arduous task to keep reading, until Kendall changes the pace with a new direction in Bataille's work. I strongly suggest reading this first before deciding which of Bataille's collections to read in whole.

[Djordy Van Bruwaene]

Rire et rire
du soleil
des orties
des galets
des canards

de la pluie
du pipi du pape
de maman
d'un cercueil empli du merde

[gonza · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Time oppresses me
I fall and I slide on my knees,
my hands feel the night"

[Sam · Rating 2 out of 5]

“I lose you in the wind
I count you among the dead
a vital cord
between heart and wind”