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Charles Baudelaire - L`Irrémédiable (The Irremediable)
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I

Une Idée, une Forme, un Etre 
Parti de l`azur et tombé
Dans un Styx bourbeux et plombé
Où nul oeil du Ciel ne pénètre;

Un Ange, imprudent voyageur
Qu`a tenté l`amour du difforme,
Au fond d`un cauchemar énorme
Se débattant comme un nageur,

Et luttant, angoisses funèbres!
Contre un gigantesque remous
Qui va chantant comme les fous
Et pirouettant dans les ténèbres;

Un malheureux ensorcelé
Dans ses tâtonnements futiles
Pour fuir d`un lieu plein de reptiles,
Cherchant la lumière et la clé;

Un damné descendant sans lampe
Au bord d`un gouffre dont l`odeur
Trahit l`humide profondeur
D`éternels escaliers sans rampe,

Où veillent des monstres visqueux
Dont les larges yeux de phosphore
Font une nuit plus noire encore
Et ne rendent visibles qu`eux;

Un navire pris dans le pôle
Comme en un piège de cristal,
Cherchant par quel détroit fatal
Il est tombé dans cette geôle;

— Emblèmes nets, tableau parfait
D`une fortune irrémédiable
Qui donne à penser que le Diable
Fait toujours bien tout ce qu`il fait!


II

Tête-à-tête sombre et limpide
Qu`un coeur devenu son miroir!
Puits de Vérité, clair et noir
Où tremble une étoile livide,

Un phare ironique, infernal
Flambeau des grâces sataniques,
Soulagement et gloire uniques,
— La conscience dans le Mal!



Beyond Redemption

I

An Idea, a Form, a Being 
Which left the azure sky and fell 
Into a leaden, miry Styx 
That no eye in Heaven can pierce;

An Angel, imprudent voyager
Tempted by love of the deformed,
In the depths of a vast nightmare
Flailing his arms like a swimmer,

And struggling, mortal agony! 
Against a gigantic whirlpool 
That sings constantly like madmen 
And pirouettes in the darkness;

An unfortunate, enchanted, 
Outstretched hands groping futilely, 
Looking for the light and the key, 
To flee a place filled with reptiles;

A damned soul descending endless stairs
Without banisters, without light,
On the edge of a gulf of which
The odor reveals the humid depth,

Where slimy monsters are watching, 
Whose eyes, wide and phosphorescent, 
Make the darkness darker still 
And make visible naught but themselves;

A ship caught in the polar sea 
As though in a snare of crystal, 
Seeking the fatal strait through which 
It came into that prison;

— Patent symbols, perfect picture 
Of an irremediable fate 
Which makes one think that the Devil 
Always does well whatever he does!


II

Somber and limpid tête-à-tête — 
A heart become its own mirror!
Well of Truth, clear and black,
Where a pale star flickers,

A hellish, ironic beacon, 
Torch of satanical blessings, 
Sole glory and only solace
— The consciousness of doing evil.


— Translated by William Aggeler



The Irremediable 

I

A Form, Idea, or Essence, chased 
Out of the azure sky, and shot 
Into a leaden Styx where not 
A star can pierce the muddy waste:

An angel, rash explorer, who,
Tempted by love of strange deformity,
Caught in a nightmare of enormity,
Fights like a swimmer, wrestling through

A monstrous whorl of eddying spume, 
In deathly anguish, from him flinging 
The wave that, like an idiot singing, 
Goes pirouetting through the gloom:

A wretch enchanted, who, to flee
A den of serpents, gropes about 
In desperation vain, without 
Discovering a match or key:

A damned soul, who, with no lamp,
Stands by a gulf, whose humid scent
Betrays the depth of the descent
Of endless stairs without a ramp,

Where slimy monsters watch the track 
Whose eyeballs phosphoresce and glow 
Only to make the night more black 
And nought except themselves to show:

A vessel that the pole betrays, 
Caught in a crystal trap all round, 
And seeking by what fatal sound 
It ever entered such a maze: — 

Clear emblems! measuring the level 
Of irremediable dooms, 
Which make us see bow well the Devil 
Performs whatever he presumes!


II

Strange tête-à-tête! the heart, its own
Mirror, its own confession hears!
Deep well where Truth is trembling shown
And like a livid star appears,

Ironic beacon and infernal
Torch of satanic grace, but still
Sole glory and relief eternal,
— Conscience that operates in Ill!


— Translated by Roy Campbell
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