巴黎的忧郁

by Charles Baudelaire, 波德莱尔, 李玉民 (Translator)

在这本散文集里，我们可以看到波德莱尔对肮脏、畸形的现实社会所进行的淋漓尽致、疾恶如仇的讽刺和挖苦，对传统、腐朽的世俗习气的无情鞭挞和猛烈抨击，也可以读到诗人对美的向往和所做的引人入胜的描绘，还可以嗅到诗人某些寓意深刻但又难以捉摸的纤细的思绪。正像他自己所说：“这还是《恶之花》，但更自由、细腻和辛辣。”

Genres: Poetry, Classics, France, French Literature, Fiction, Literature, 19th Century

195 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1857

About the author

Public condemned Les fleurs du mal (1857), obscene only volume of French writer, translator, and critic Charles Pierre Baudelaire; expanded in 1861, it exerted an enormous influence over later symbolist and modernist poets.

Reputation of Charles Pierre Baudelaire rests primarily on perhaps the most important literary art collection, published in Europe in the 19th century. Similarly, his early experiment Petits poèmes en prose (1868) ( Little Prose Poems ) most succeeded and innovated of the time.

From financial disaster to prosecution for blasphemy, drama and strife filled life of known Baudelaire with highly controversial and often dark tales of Edgar Allan Poe. Long after his death, his name represents depravity and vice. He seemingly speaks directly to the 20th century civilization.

Reviews

[Luís · Rating 5 out of 5]

Charles Baudelaire's Little Poems in Prose (The Spleen of Paris) are inseparable from Paris and the architectural, social, and economic transformations the capital experienced in the second half of the 19th century.
The street plays a fundamental role in this because it represents the meeting place par excellence, a place of excellent mixing: the classes of society crossed there, the beings, crowds, or individuals, are offered in their diversity, generality, or specificity, revealing a form of their truth and a style of their honesty and authenticity.
How does time, the history of France and Europe, the history of ideas, and scientific and technological progress change Baudelaire's vision and poetics to bring it into modernity to be one of the initiators?
In the Spleen of Paris, Baudelaire becomes a man of the street, a ranger, voyeur, and clairvoyant. In this fascinating, repulsive city, Paris, Baudelaire seeks his inspiration and is no longer in the spectacle of nature.
It expands the field of inner experience in this place of evil and wanderings from which beauty sometimes arises.
Turning his back on conventional poetry, he then enters modernity.

[Tosh · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

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 clouds...the clouds that pass...up there...
up there...the wonderful clouds!

[AiK · Rating 5 out of 5]

Небольшой сборник стихов в прозе, очень атмосферный, в котором есть и Париж, и сплин, мысли, размышления, зарисовки, наблюдения, настроение... В предисловии Бодлер пишет : "Кто из нас не мечтает, в наше честолюбивое время, создать чудо стихотворной прозы, музыкальной без ритма и рифмы, достаточно гибкой и неровной, чтобы приспособиться к лирическим порывам души, к поворотам фантазии, к метаниям совести?
Из частых прогулок по большим городам, из наблюдений за бесчисленными людскими отношениями и возникает этот неотступный идеал".
Чужеземец, у которого никого нет, кого бы любить, но который любит облака, что плывут там в вышине, дивные облака, Старый Паяц и многие другие живут в этой лирике в прозе.

Язык Бодлера образен и образы прекрасны.
"Нет острия более колкого, чем острие Бесконечности."

Стихотворения наполнены экзистенциальной тоской, отчаяния, предопределённости поражения на фоне вечной красоты. "Однако эти мысли, исходят ли они от меня или устремляются из глубины вещей, делаются вскоре чересчур напряженными. Избыток наслаждения сменяется вялостью и самым настоящим страданием. Мои нервы, слишком натянутые, содрогаются болезненно и мучительно.
И вот уже глубина небес меня подавляет, чистота и прозрачность — выводят из себя. Бесстрастная морская гладь, незыблемость этого грандиозного зрелища представляются мне возмутительными… Ах!.. нужно ли вечно страдать или вечно избегать прекрасного? Природа, волшебница, не знающая жалости, всегда торжествующая соперница, оставь меня! Не искушай меня в моих желаниях и в моей гордыне! Всякий урок прекрасного — поединок, где художник испускает вопль ужаса, перед тем как упасть побежденным."
Тем в этом сборнике так много и они извергаются таким беспорядочным потоком, что каждый будет иметь свое мнение, о чем же стихи.
Мне же кажется, что красота и художник / поэт. А может быть Время, когда секунды, срывающиеся с маятника возвещают: "Я — сама Жизнь, невыносимая, неумолимая Жизнь!".
Многие стихотворения философски глубоки.
Неожиданно есть и социальная проблематика, например, в "Старом паяце", "Игрушке бедняка" или "Пирожке".

[Araz Goran · Rating 4 out of 5]

كتابات بودلير سوداوية قاتمة غارقة في الكآبة يكتب الرجل بحسايسة شديدة ومعقدة ومفرطة في الوعي والتراشق اللفظي العنيف التي تسود في معظم نثريات هذا الكتاب, هذا الرجل يشع جنوناً وحساسية من كل شيء, كئيب كحشرة, موجع كحافة سكين , ليس لديه غاية فيما يكتب سوى العبث بمزاج القارئ بنصوص أحياناً هي أقرب للهلوسات, سببت لي كتاباته خلال الأيام الماضية عقدة نفسية من القراءة وعجزت عن التوقف عن متابعة مابدأت به..

إنه عمل غير صالح , لا أنصح أحداً بالاقتراب من هذا الرجل خصوصاً لو كان يعاني من حساسية مفرطة أو كآبة مزمنة , فلن يزيده هذا الكتاب إلا خبالاً ..
الكتاب جيد من الناحية الأدبية لا شك ولكنه قد يروق للكثيرين بقتامته وسوداويته..

[Ulysse · Rating 5 out of 5]

I first met Paris Spleen on the Boulevard Saint-Michel while living in Paris as an exchange student in the year 2000. Standing by the poetry section of a second-hand bookstore, looking both miserable and chic at the same time, she was staring at the cracked spines of long-dead poets. I said hi, any recommendations? She turned to me and with a mournful smile pointed at herself. Since then, she has sat next to me on the benches of every public park, in every season, in every movie theatre, on every metro line, every flight between Paris and Vancouver, through every joy and heartbreak—my constant companion. Paris Spleen has never let me down. She was there when I met the love of my life or when I had my appendix taken out. She was maid of honour at my wedding. When I struggled to write my first songs, she hummed along encouragingly while drying the dishes. All my life of drudgery Paris Spleen has been by my side mumbling poetry. When my son was born, Paris Spleen offered to be his godmother. Nights I had had too much to drink, she guided me safely home along the wobbly streets of Babylon. If I was ill, Paris Spleen saw me through to recovery. She quarantined herself with me during Covid. At times of sorrow she wiped the snot of despair from my nose with her sleeve. She paid my taxes, she cleaned my toilet, she restrung my guitar. And the day when crushed by the weight of too much mortality I will lie on my deathbed before my ultimate sunset, Paris Spleen will put a raggedy arm around my shoulder and, pointing to the window, say: mon ami, regarde les nuages qui passent... là-bas... là-bas... les merveilleux nuages!

[Piyangie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Paris Spleen is a retelling of Les Fleurs du Mal in a more profound and elaborate manner. It's more powerful with its touch on a wider range of themes. As in with Les Fleurs du Mal, pleasure, women, and intoxication, the causes of moral decadence are touched and elaborated. The artistry that was budding in the former work is fully realized in this work with the vagueness and mystery being replaced by more expression. But what makes Paris Spleen unique and stands apart from its predecessor is the picture of the daily city life of Paris that it paints through the 50 prose poems.

Baudelaire's observations of contemporary Paris flow through these powerful vignettes. It was a time of social, cultural, and economic transformation. And Baudelaire's pen exposed the human conditions and the human emotions of the people in this transformation period. With dark undertones, Baudelaire brings out the negative, the ugly aspect of things, that the city was eager to hide. And amidst all this change and progress, Baudelaire contemplates on one thing that the city seems to forget, which is human mortality.

Paris Spleen won my heart more than Les Fleurs du Mal. I did enjoy the mysterious and darker beauty of the latter but enjoyed more the open and communicative nature of the former. Out of his two celebrated works, I found Paris Spleen easier to connect with. His unmistakable sympathy for the unpleasant side of life was more positively and completely communicated through this bold collection.

Baudelaire is a gifted poet. He has the rare ability to make readers fall in love with the negative, the ugly, and the taboo. He tore the hypocritical veil of pretty verses and paved the way for realistic expression. In short, he exposed the truth of life, its nature, and its conditions in its true form.

More of my reviews can be found at http://piyangiejay.com/

[Jonfaith · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Carlo Mascellani · Rating 4 out of 5]

Continuo a dire che leggere i bozzetti scritti dagli autori consente di apprezzare ancora di più il loro stile e la loro poetica. In questi brevi poemetti dal gusto prosaico, Baudelaire ci conduce a conoscere buona parte della Parigi nascosta, di quelle vite che a stento destano l'attenzione del passante, ma che tanto hanno dentro di sé. Solitudine, disperazione, scoramento, ma anche gioia, speranza, spensieratezza sembrano mescolarsi nell'animo delle curiose figure protagoniste di questa breve raccolta, a ricordarci che la vita non è una cosa soltanto, ma miriadi di sensazioni mescolati insieme. Come il cielo stellato che tanto sa emozionarci.

[Raul · Rating 5 out of 5]

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 more 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 more 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 more 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."

[سـارا · Rating 4 out of 5]

بنظرم این کتاب برای آشنایی با دیدگاه و اشعار بودلر فوق‌العاده عالیه. دکتر ندوشن فصل اول مختصری از سرگذشت بودلر رو شرح میده و در بخش بعدی عناوین و پیرنگ‌های اصلی مطرح شده در اشعار بیان میشن، که باعث میشه با یه دید کلی و نسبتا کامل سراغشون برید.
۴۱ قطعه از اشعار نثر ملال پاریس و ۲۶ قطعه‌ی برگزیده از گل‌های بدی ترجمه شدند، که بنظرم ترجمه‌ی خیلی خوبی هم دارند. معمولا ترجمه‌ی شعر از زبان دیگه و انتقال وجه احساسی و روح ابیات به شدت سخته ولی این اشعار فوق العاده اعجاب انگیزن.
در انتها هم توضیح کوتاهی برای هر قطعه آورده شده که به درک بهتر زبان بودلر خیلی کمک میکنه.
نکته‌ی جالب تاثیر پذیری عمیق صادق هدایت از بودلر تو بوف کور بود که خیلی جاها بهش اشاره شده.
اگر تونستید اشعار رو به زبان اصلی هم بخونید که لذتش دوچندانه.

[Yann · Rating 5 out of 5]

J'aurais eu bien du mal à entrer dans l'univers très particulier de ces poèmes en prose de Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) si je n'avais pas lu au préalable son peintre de la vie moderne, un essai dans lequel il expose son état d'esprit vis à vis de l'art: quelque chose de fugace, de fragile, sans cesse menacé par la lourdeur et la bêtise ambiante, une fleur rare à cueillir non pas seulement sur les monts Ida ou Parnasse, mais aussi et surtout dans l'activité des faubourgs, le fracas et les tracas de la vie moderne, les bras des amantes, les vapeurs des liqueurs, pour qui sait la voir, la saisir et la peindre.

Les quelques dizaines de textes courts qui composent cet ouvrage ne forment aucune espèce d'unité, et sont indépendantes les unes des autres. Le plus souvent, l'auteur semble tirer d'anecdotes de sa vie quotidienne un sujet frappant pour l'imagination, le jugement et la sensibilité, qu'il tourne avec un style et un vocabulaire élégant, et serre en la terminant d'une chute cruelle, d'un aphorisme riche ou d'une pensée élevée. Le bonheur n'est jamais complet ou béat, le malheur fracassant et terrible; l'émotion est le fruit d'une dissonance, d'un contraste, d'une opposition: entre le bien et le mal, l'amour et le mépris, le luxe et la pauvreté, l'illusion et le réel, la nature et la civilisation, la violence et la charité, la solitude et l'empathie. Il intéresse et inquiète à la fois, il fascine et dérange en même temps.

Mon tempérament est bien éloigné du sien; il aime l'ombre et les contrastes, je préfère la lumière et la clarté; il aime l'ivresse et la douleur, je préfère le calme et la sérénité. Et pourtant, il a réussi à me faire vibrer, à m'envouter, à me transmettre ses émotions. Cette manière d'enchanter le réel dans ce qu'il a de plus sordide ou de plus trivial, m'a agréablement surpris, charmé et conquis. Une très belle collection de textes poétiques en prose.

[Katia N · Rating 5 out of 5]

Charles Baudelaire’s “Les Fenêtres”
(translated by Emily Leithauser)

He who looks out at the world from an open window never sees as many things as he who looks at a closed window. There is nothing deeper, more mysterious, more fruitful, more shadowy, or more dazzling than a window lit by a candle. What we can see in daylight is always less interesting than what happens behind a windowpane. Deep in that dark or luminous aperture, life lives, life dreams, life suffers.

Beyond the waves of rooftops, I glimpse a middle-aged woman, already wrinkled, poor; she is always bent over something, and never goes out. From her face, from her clothing, from her gestures, from almost nothing, I have remade this woman’s past, or rather, her story, which I tell myself from time to time in tears.

If it had been a poor, old man, I would have remade his story just as easily.
And then I go to sleep, proud of having lived and suffered as people other than myself.
You might ask me: “Are you sure that this story is the real one?” What does it matter what reality dwells outside of me, if the story helps me live, helps me feel that I am and what I am?

[Makis Dionis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ο Baudelaire , ως άλλος Bukowski της εποχής του, μας παρασύρει σε σε μία μελωδική ονειροπόληση, όπου αναβλύζουν οι μουσικές της ζωής σε ένα αόριστο μουρμουρητό . Η ποίησή του που παρουσιάζει τόσο λυρικά τη μιζέρια της καθημερινότητας και του προσωπικού δράματος. Κ όπως διαπιστώνει κ ο ίδιος, σαν παγιδευμένος λύκος, μένει προσκολλημένος, ίσως για πάντα, στον τάφο του ιδανικού

[Маx Nestelieiev · Rating 5 out of 5]

прекрасні переклади. хотілось би більше прози Бодлера українською+деякі примітки надто куці й неінформативні, але загальна задумка (вступ+твори+контекст від Беньяміна) - нова й інтригує.

[Sérgio · Rating 4 out of 5]

O impacto de Baudelaire na poesia francesa oitocentista é equivalente ao de Victor Hugo na prosa do período análogo. Tal como Hugo, Baudelaire representa um autêntico cometa que veio revolucionar os meios literários e artísticos através dos quais melhor se expressou. Na verdade, a publicação da sua primeira, e definidora, obra poética, As Flores do Mal (1857), mereceu um elogio rasgado da parte do próprio Hugo: “as suas As Flores do Mal brilham e deslumbram como estrelas” (consultar Referências).

Apesar de ficar conhecido para a posteridade pela sua poesia, foi pela crítica de arte que Baudelaire primeiro enveredou. A atestá-lo está a publicação do Salon de 1845 e do Salon de 1846, mistos de catálogos das obras então expostas no salão parisiense e de uma fina censura contra a parcialidade dos críticos de arte da Monarquia de Julho. Na génese destes ensaios estava já subjacente aquela que seria a sua futura teorização da arte e do conceito de modernidade, e a relação intrínseca entre ambas, a partir do período Romântico, com a consequente rejeição dos modelos clássicos, exposta em O Pintor da Vida Moderna.

Paralelamente, e de importante relevância para a maturação do sentido estético baudelairiano, surge o interesse pelo autor americano Edgar Allan Poe. Responsável pela geral aceitação de Poe em França, através de inúmeras traduções da sua lavra, Baudelaire considerava-o o seu antecessor literário, e a ele foi beber inspiração para o grotesco e o satanismo onírico da sua lírica futura. A produção intermitente destas traduções coincidirá com a publicação da magnum opus As Flores do Mal, corte definitivo com a hegemonia do cânone romântico na poesia, abrindo novos horizontes na expressividade simbólica e fragmentária, prenhe de sensações e intuições que prefiguram já uma nova estética de estilo impressionista. A morte prematura de Baudelaire (1867), aos 46 anos, vítima dos excessos a que se votou, e a pouco mais de meia dúzia de obras publicadas em vida não devem, contudo, enganar o observador superficial, a maior parte das suas produções literárias foi publicada postumamente.

O Spleen de Paris encontra-se precisamente entre essa produção póstuma, tendo sido dado ao prelo em 1869, pelas mãos de Charles Asselineau e Théodore de Banville. O nome pelo qual também é conhecido, Petits Poèmes en Prose, evidencia o carácter formal inovador, composto por cinquenta poemas em prosa, à maneira de Louis Jacques Napoléon Bertrand, seu inventor. Como parte da sua busca por uma nova expressividade capaz de apreender e plasmar a realidade em perpétua e alucinante mudança da modernidade, propósito último de Baudelaire, O Spleen de Paris representa uma quebra decisiva com as formas poéticas tradicionais, alteradas mas não derrubadas pelos Românticos. Nas suas próprias palavras, esse invólucro exterior deveria assumir a forma de uma “prosa poética, musical sem ritmo e sem rima, suficientemente maleável e suficientemente contrastante para se adaptar aos movimentos líricos da alma, às ondulações do devaneio, aos sobressaltos da consciência” (BAUDELAIRE, p. 17-18) .

Tendo passado os últimos anos da sua vida a terminar o Spleen, no qual vinha a trabalhar de forma intermitente desde 1855, era intenção de Baudelaire que a colectânea de poemas funcionasse como complemento ou introdução a As Flores do Mal. À semelhança de Balzac em A Comédia Humana, o tema central dos Petits Poèmes é a própria Paris caput mundi, leviatã insaciável da modernidade, cadinho da civilização ocidental em constante expansão, desta feita sob a batuta do barão Haussmann, introdutor da racionalidade urbanística. O conceito de spleen que dá nome à obra, já introduzido em As Flores do Mal, é aqui aprofundado como forma de pintar a nova vida parisiense, convulsionada pelas constantes demolições de Haussmann, enegrecida pela pobreza e miséria humanas resultantes da industrialização, então em franca expansão, impregnada de tédio, desânimo e angústia existencial.

A definição do poeta é outro dos vectores agregadores dos Petits Poèmes. Para Baudelaire, o poeta deve ser o nefelibata profissional da inquietude, eternamente incompreendido pela sociedade mundana, dela excluído para melhor captar o seu âmago; o flâneur das existências colectivas, vagueando não só pela cidade como pela alma dos transeuntes por quem se cruza, sendo sua obrigação viver múltiplas vidas, tantas quantas as que tocam a sua sensibilidade, naquilo que descreve como uma “santa prostituição da alma” (BAUDELAIRE, p. 40). O iluminismo, em particular o mito rousseauniano do bom selvagem, é ridicularizado, sendo contraposto ao absurdo da vida mundana e às forças inelutáveis do irracional. Em contrapartida, a estética decadentista é já antevista no poema “O Confiteor do Artista”, onde é advogada a superioridade da subjectividade poética e a sua capacidade de artifício criativo em detrimento da esterilidade da natureza idílica e espontânea, não mediada pela visão mistificadora do eu lírico. Por fim, perpassa por toda a obra o indelével sabor, nas palavras do próprio Baudelaire, dos “países sonhadores que consolam Gambrinus” (BAUDELAIRE, p. 96), uma referência à cerveja e ao álcool (aos quais recorre como bálsamo demasiadas vezes administrado), através da evocação do lendário herói europeu a eles associado.

Se a primeira metade do século XIX viveu sob a égide de Victor Hugo, a segunda metade de oitocentos viveria sob a influência de Charles Baudelaire. Após a sua morte, poetas como Verlaine, Rimbaud ou Mallarmé reivindicariam o ascendente baudelairiano na sua poesia. Deste modo, as inovações formais presentes em As Flores do Mal e O Spleen de Paris farão escola, particularmente a prosa poética abrirá novos horizontes à poesia do século XX, pelo que podemos afirmar acerca de Baudelaire que é o primeiro poeta moderno. Ademais, tal como já referido, a sua estética será a base do movimento literário decadentista. Bem assim, o frequente emprego de uma simbologia sinestésica como forma de alargar os horizontes da apreensão de uma realidade apenas perceptível ao olhar perscrutador do sujeito poético constituirá o fundamento do movimento simbolista.

Como nota de rodapé, é interessante entrever, em embrião, o heterónimo de Fernando Pessoa, Bernardo Soares, nos versos “porquê obrigar o meu corpo a mudar de lugar, se a minha alma viaja tão lestamente? E para quê realizar projectos, se o projecto já é um prazer suficiente?” (BAUDELAIRE, p. 71).

Referências

https://www.theguardian.com/books/201... [Consultado a 06-10-2019].

BAUDELAIRE, Charles (2007) – O Spleen de Paris – Pequenos Poemas em Prosa. Lisboa: Relógio D’Água Editores. (BI: Biblioteca de Editores Independentes, n.º 25).

[Aslı Can]

Kısacık öykümsülerden oluşuyor Paris Sıkıntısı. Baudelaire'in yazdıkları hem çocuksu çoşkunluk ve neşeye, hem de bilgece bir vazgeçmişlik ve ironiye sahip. Coşkusuna da, pes etmişliğine de yoldaş hissediyorum kendimi. Evet ben de ''bulutları severim... işte şu... şu geçip giden bulutları... eşsiz bulutları'' ve evet ben de ''dünyanın dışında neresi olursa, alıp başımı gitmek istiyorum.''

Ben Baudelaire'i çok sevdim, pasaklı köpeklere şiirler düzen kim varsa, alıp bağrıma basabilirim.

--Bir de bana uzaktan uzaktan Sait Faik'i çağrıştırdı yazdıklarındaki hissiyat. Aynı şeyi düşünüp hisseden var mıdır merak ettim.

[Pia G.]

"peki, neyi seversin öyleyse, olağanüstü yabancı?"
"bulutları severim.. işte şu.. şu geçip giden bulutları.. eşsiz bulutları!"

ah, ah..
baudelaire sıkıntıyı sadece geçici bir duygu olarak değil, modern yaşamın yaygın ve neredeyse kaçınılmaz bir koşulu olarak ele almış. tasvirleri hem büyüleyici hem de boğucu, ben de adeta bir klostrofobi hissi uyandırdı.

ancak tarzına aşina olmadığım için yer yer sıkıldığımı söylemeliyim, o yüzden puan konusunda tereddütteyim.

[Magdalen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Είναι ώρα για να μεθύσετε! Για να μην είστε οι βασανισμένοι σκλάβοι του Χρόνου, μεθάτε αδιάκοπα. Από κρασί, από ποίηση ή απο αρετή, όπως προτιμάτε

[Meltem Sağlam · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tahsin Yücel’in berrak ve muhteşem Türkçe’si, bu harika metne ayrı bir tad katmış. Bu türü ilk kez okuyorum, çok beğendim. Yoksulluk, yaşlılık, ölüm, umut, sanat, yalnızlık metinlerde özel bir yer tutuyor. Sindirerek okunması gereken bir metin.

Aşağıda alıntıladığım ilk metin, bir bölümün tam metnidir. Gerçekten şiir gibi!


“Hep sarhoş olmalı. Her şey bunda: tek Zorum bu. Omuzlarınızı ezen, sizi toprağa doğru çeken Zaman’ın korkunç ağırlığını duymamak için durmamacasına sarhoş olmalısınız.

Ama neyle? Şarapla, şiirle ya da erdemle, nasıl isterseniz. Ama sarhoş olun.

Ve bazı bazı, bir sarayın basamakları, bir hendeğin yeşil otları üstünde, odanızın donuk yalnızlığı içinde, sarhoşluğunuz azalmış ya da büsbütün geçmiş bir durumda uyanırsanız, sorun, yele, dalgaya, yıldıza, kuşa, saatte sorun, her kaçan şeye, inleyen, yuvarlanan, şakıyan, konuşan her şeye sorun, “Saat kaç?” deyin; yel, dalga, yıldız, kuş, saat hemen verecektir yanıtı size: “Sarhoş olma saatidir! Zamanın inim inim iniletilen köleleri olmamak için sarhoş olun durmamacasına! Şarapla, şiirle ya da erdemle, nasıl isterseniz.”, sf; 80.

“… Ancak eşit olduğunu kanıtlayan kişi eşittir bir başkasına, özgürlüğü ancak onu kazanan hak eder.”, sf; 111.

“… Akademik esin tanrıçasını istemem! O kocakarıyı ne yapayım ben?…”, sf; 113.

[Andreia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Inesperado.
Este pequeno livro de pequenos poemas em prosa, inquieta.
Com C. B., a poesia deixa de ocupar-se do belo, do ideal, da Natureza e passa a tratar da realidade, de todas as misérias humanas, e da cidade. Tudo pode ser objecto da poesia, mesmo a escrita, mesmo a dificuldade do poeta em escrever. A poesia deixa de servir de entretenimento, e passa a servir para pensar.
O poeta não é diferente dos outros miseráveis humanos, a única coisa que o distingue é o facto de escrever. Ele não é inspirado, ele é atento à realidade e usa também a imaginação, mas é através do trabalho da escrita, que expõe as suas ideias. O poeta apresenta situações que promovem a reflexão, mas não procura evangelizar, nem afirmar uma determinada verdade.

[Deniz Urs · Rating 5 out of 5]

“...Sonra, yaşamı öylesine çetin olan Zaman’ı öldürmek, öylesine ağır akan Yaşam’ı hızlandırmak için yeni şişeler getirttiler...”

[Jimmy · Rating 3 out of 5]

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 Clouds

My 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."

[Thomas · Rating 5 out of 5]

Baudelaire is a lover of dichotomy: rich/poor, solitude/society, excrement/perfume. "She is very ugly. She is nevertheless delectable." ("A Thorough-Bred") The unstated purpose of each poem is to transform degradation and disunity into an unsettled and ironic harmony, or at least to shine a light on the beauty of decay. They are passionate poems; they move with force, but with time it becomes apparent that each of them moves in a familiar pattern, and by the end of the collection it is comforting to find each poem discover its point of balance amidst the contradictions.

[Juan Nalerio · Rating 4 out of 5]

El spleen o esplín, como se lo españoliza, es la melancolía que produce tedio o hastío de todo.
Y en los 50 poemas en prosa está presente, como no, esa sensación.

Baudelaire nos lega pensamientos profundos sobre la vida, el amor, las mujeres, las artes y la modernidad (fines del sXIX). Te hace pensar, te provoca sentimientos profundos, te llega al alma.

El concepto de soledad flota a lo largo de varios de los poemas relacionado con temas varios como por ejemplo las multitudes, los viajes, la fealdad, la pobreza.

Es un libro complejo, literatura de alta calidad, de doble lectura.

[TBV (on hiatus) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Baudelaire vents his spleen about a variety of issues. Traditionally the spleen was thought to be the seat of emotions. Much emotion is displayed here. These short pieces are keenly observed and beautifully written, but at times they are quite shocking and heart breaking.

[Valentina Vekovishcheva · Rating 5 out of 5]

Возвеселясь в душе, я поднялся на гору:
Притон, чистилище, ад, сумасшедший дом -
Вот дебри города, распахнутые взору,
Здесь расцветает грязь чудовищным цветком.

[Carla · Rating 4 out of 5]

Carta a Fernand Desnoyers

Meu caro Desnoyers, você pede-me versos para o seu pequeno volume, versos sobre a Natureza, não é? – sobre os bosques, os grandes castanheiros, a verdura, os insectos – o sol, talvez? Mas você sabe bem que eu sou incapaz de me enternecer com os vegetais, e que a minha alma é rebelde a essa singular Religião nova, que terá sempre, parece-me, para todo o ser espiritual não sei o quê de shocking. Eu nunca acreditarei que a alma dos Deuses habita nas plantas, e, mesmo que aí habitasse, eu pouco me importaria com isso, e consideraria a minha como um bem mais precioso que a dos legumes santificados. Sempre pensei, até, que havia na Natureza, florescente e rejuvenescida, qualquer coisa de confrangedor, duro, cruel – um não sei quê que roça a impudência. Na impossibilidade de o satisfazer completamente segundo os estritos termos do programa, envio-lhe dois trechos poéticos que representam quase a suma dos devaneios com que sou assaltado nas horas crepusculares. No fundo dos bosques, encerrado sob essas abóbadas semelhantes às das sacristias e das catedrais, eu penso nas nossas espantosas cidades, e a música prodigiosa que roda sobre os cumes parece-me a tradução das lamentações humanas.

C. B.

[Youssef Al Brawy · Rating 5 out of 5]

مع عصر النهضة، برزت النزعة الإنسيّة، وسرعانَ ما بدأت مكانة الإنسان "الفرد" في الرسوخ، وأصبحت كل ثقافة مركزها الإنسان. شيّد الفن ذاته على فكرة العودة للماضي اليوناني والروماني في محاولة لإبطال مفعول التوجهات الدينية لكل مناحي الحياة، والبحث عن مصدر أكثر ثراء لحياة الإنسان، متطلعًا إلى المستقبل الذي تصبح فيه الذات/الأنا مركز العالم، فيما يصبح العالم تجليًّا للذات في حالاتها المتعددة والمشبوبة دائمًا بلا استقلال أو انفصال. وبعد أن سرقت العقلانية والحضارة الإنسانَ من أوهامه، اختلطت المشاعر بالفقدان والخسارة والضياع، فأصبحت العاطفة والشعور قُطب الذات الفاعل بصورة مطلقة وشمولية ليحلَّ الخيال بديلًا للعقل ذي القدرات الشمولية لدى الكلاسيكيين كنتيجة لذلك.

الأرض كاسدة، البشر فاسدون، هكذا تصبح القصيدة الرومانتيكية مزيجًا في آنٍ واحد من الهجاء للراهن والرثاء للماضي والذات.. راهنٌ يمثل نفيًا لإنسانية الإنسان وإهدارًا لطاقاته الحقيقية الإبداعية والرفيعة، وماضٍ كان تحقيقًا لشهوات الإنسان وأحلامه في حياة مزدهرة، محكومة بقيم مادية فظة لا-إنسانية إلى حد الانحطاط والابتذال. ومن هنا تنبثق الكآبة والتشاؤم في النص الرومانتيكي، بفعل اكتشاف خواء العالم وعدائيته وانفصاله العميق عن روح الإنسان وتحول الطبيعة إلى شيء خارجي منفصل عن الإنسان.

من هنا بدأ تمرُّد بودلير على المؤلَّف بتخطي الجروح التي لا تَندمل بفعل الرومانتيكية، منتقلًا بالشعر، بصورة نهائية وحاسمة، إلى الحداثة، وهو ما يعني أن يُستخلص الشعري من التاريخي، وأن يُستمد الأبدي من الانتقالي. ونتيجة لذلك الوضع الملتبس موضوعيًّا أتيح فهم الحداثة التي انتهى إليها بودلير: محاولة تحويل اليومي الزائل إلى الرمزي الخالد، من خلال ذلك العمل على تعميم التجريد في بقية أشكال التعبير، ورفض النزعة الواقعية التي يصفها بودلير "إنها إهانة مقززة ألقيت في وجه كل المحللين، إنها كلمة غامضة وزئبقية لا تعني بالنسبة للإنسان وصفًا دقيقًا للأمور"..
ونستطيع أن نرقب هذه التحولات في تعريف بودلير للحداثة في مقالته المهمة "رسام الحياة الحديثة Le Peintre de la vie moderne" الصادرة عام 1863: "إن الحداثة هي المؤقت، وسريع الزوال، والجائز، هي نصف الفن، بينما الأبدي والثابت هو النصف الآخر". الفن وفقًا لبودلير هو استخلاص السرمدي من العابر والزائل. هذا الزائل أو العابر لا يمكن للفنان أن يتجاوزه "هذا العنصر العابر والمنفلت، والذي تكون تحولاته جد متواترة. ليس من حقك ازدراؤه أو الاستغناء عنه. إنك بإلغائه ستسقط لا محالة في تجريد جمالي، مستعصى عن التحديد.. كجمال المرأة الوحيدة قبل الخطيئة الأولى.".
الحداثة عند بودلير هي تجاوُز الفنان الحديث ومُضيّه في البحث عن غاية أسمى من غاية متسكِّع خالص، غاية أكثر عمومية، غاية غير المتعة العابرة للمناسبة، وتحدِّيه للصيرورة، أو التعايش معها، أن يحاول السيطرة عليها، أو السباحة في مياهها، إلا أنه لا يستطيع، في كل الأحوال، تجاهلها.. وإذا كان الدفق والتغيير، والتشتت والتشظي، قد شكلا القاعدة المادية للحياة الحديثة، ففي وسع الفنان كشخص قادر على تركيز رؤيته على الموضوعات العادية للحياة المعاصرة، وعلى فهم خصائصها المتغيرة، أن يستخرج من اللحظة العابرة كل عناصر الخلود الكامنة فيها. الفنان الحداثي الناضج، وفقًا لبودلير، هو ذلك الذي يستطيع العثور على الكلي الدائم، وأن "يقطر طعم خمر الحياة المر" من "أشكال الجمال العابر والزائل في حياتنا اليومية"، وبمقدار ما ينجح الفن الحداثي في ذلك، فهو يصبح فنًا لنا، إذ إنه وبدقة "الفن الذي يستجيب لسيناريو فوضانا".

ولذلك يمثل ديوان "سأم باريس" مرحلة مغايرة في تاريخ الفن: إنه اكتشاف دءوب مشبوب يقوم على استنباط الجمال من الشر، ذاك ما لم يخطر على قلب أحد. ويوضح معظم سمات قصائد بودلير، القصيدة البودليرية ليست تعبيرًا عن ذاته، ولا تأريخًا لمسيرته الروحية، فالانفصام واضح بين الشعر والشاعر كذاتٍ فردية شخصية، لتبدأ مع بودلير تلك المسافة المباعِدة بين القصيدة وصاحبها، بحيث تصبح القصيدة نتاجًا إبداعيًا له وجوده الموضوعي المستقل عن ذات الشاعر، وهو ما يتضح بالذات في ديوان "سأم باريس" حيث نجد القيم الإنسانية بمعناها الأسمى، والقصص التي تُعد بمثابة تأريخٍ لبعض من المهمشين الذين لم يُكتب لهم الخلود، كمهرجٍ حزين، وسياسي قبيح موهوم، وبهلوان عجوز، وجمهور بائس للاعب سيرك تتجسد التراجيديا في حياته. ومن هنا أصبحت "الأنا" الواردة في القصائد موضوعية، غير شخصية، يُقدم من خلالها ما يراه دون أن يُقحم نفسه أو مشاعره الشخصية فيها.
قصائد بودلير لا-عاطفية، بل هي محكومة بدرجة من العقلانية بحيث لا آهات ولا دموع، لا أناشيد أو مرثيات، لا حزن أو بهجة. "ما من احترام إنساني، ولا أي حياء زائف، ولا أي توافق، ولا أي قبول عمومي باستطاعته أن يُرغمني على الكلام بلهجة هذا العصر الفريدة، ولا على خلط الحبر بالفضيلة". "لقد وضعت في هذا الكتاب البشع كلَّ قلبي، كل رقتي، كل ديني (المتنكِّر)، وكل حقدي.".

شارل بودلير هو مِن قلة مَن تحرَّروا من النزعة الأخلاقية بشكل فريد يجعله يفثأ الكثير من جراح المثالية المزيفة بكل بساطة وأريحية، ويستنبط الجمال والفن الأصيل من قلب الشوك والألم.

[Catherine]

A Hemisphere in a Head of Hair

Long let me inhale, the odour of your hair,
into it plunge the whole of my face, like a thirsty man
into the waters of a spring and wave it in my fingers like a scented handkerchief,
to shake memories into the air.

If you could know all that I see! All that I hear
in your hair! My soul floats upon perfumes as the souls of other men
upon music.

Your hair contains an entire dream, full of sails and masts;
it contains vast seas whose soft monsoons bear me to delightful climates
where space is deeper and bluer, where
the atmosphere
is perfumed with fruit, with foliage and with human skin.

In the ocean of your hair I am shown brief visions of a port
resounding with melancholy songs, of vigorous men of all nations
and ships of all shapes outlining their fine and complicated architectures
against an immense sky where eternal heat languidly quivers...

In the glowing fire grate of your hair I inhale the odor
of opium mingled with sugar; in the night of your hair
I see the infinity of tropical azure resplendant;
on the downed banks of your hair I inebriate myself
with the mingled odors of tar, of musk and of coconut oil.

Long let me bite your heavy, black tresses.
When I gnaw your elastic and rebellious hair
it seems to me
that I am eating memories.