Soon we shall plunge into the cold darkness; Farewell, vivid brightness of our short-lived summers! Already I hear the dismal sound of firewood Falling with a clatter on the courtyard pavements. All winter will possess my being: wrath, Hate, horror, shivering, hard, forced labor, And, like the sun in his polar Hades, My heart will be no more than a frozen red block. All atremble I listen to each falling log; The building of a scaffold has no duller sound. My spirit resembles the tower which crumbles Under the tireless blows of the battering ram. It seems to me, lulled by these monotonous shocks, That somewhere they're nailing a coffin, in great haste. For whom? — Yesterday was summer; here is autumn That mysterious noise sounds like a departure.
Translated by William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
I woke up this morning and noticed the sun was barely up and it was 8 am. Being retired and not having to punch a clock anymore makes me notice the sun. I would get up with the alarm, shower, coffee, breakfast and out the door to a warehouse with cubicles and artificial light. Time change.
This is Baudelaire's famous poem about humanity's lack of concern for fellow humans and for the planet we inhabit. I think Baudelaire is saying that if we don't change soon, the spark of light, warmth and kindness will go out in us, and humanity will become a dark failed entity.
It was quite a long time ago when he wrote this. But who can honestly say - looking at the warring world around us now - that things have gotten any better? Who can honestly say that we are not busier than ever nailing our own vast coffin tightly shut?