37 Comments

“Who hovers over life and understands with ease

The language of flowers and silent things!”

you with me then

Expand full comment

"The language of flowers and silent things"

🫠😻🏵🌿

Expand full comment

My mother tongue is French, and in looking at the original, I gleaned the meaning a bit better and learned a word or two that is no longer of common usage. Thanks for sharing this one.

Expand full comment

Pascale! It's wonderful that you can connect with texts in your mother tongue.

What word or phrase did you find particularly interesting or new in the original text?

Expand full comment

I have the same question : )

Expand full comment

The language of flowers and silent things!

Expand full comment

While I can be a conisseuer of flavors and my taste buds imbibe, an Mmm escapes

I am still at the roses are red violets blue level of writing

Worse...My once impeccable spelling must now resort to autocorrect.

Life can really make ya laugh 😹

Expand full comment

It’s a journey worth taking! As long as you’re enjoying the process it’s a success.

Expand full comment

We all gotta start somewhere, Barbara : ) Keep going. It gets... well, I'm not sure if it gets easier, but it is a lot of fun!

Expand full comment

Great poem. Have not read much Baudelaire. Perhaps that will change.

Baneful Miasma would make a great name for a grindcore band.

Expand full comment

Yes, he is one of the best France has ever produced when it comes to poetry, and this marvelous poem is proof of it. I like it in its entirety. Good read!

Expand full comment

Beautiful.

The peace that comes with observing life and getting outslde your own head.

Expand full comment

Every word of this is transporting 💠 beauty. Pure Beauty.

Expand full comment

I really appreciate that you share both older and more contemporary poems.

Expand full comment

A poem for our time.

Expand full comment

Beautiful.

Expand full comment

IDK, it's ok, nothing too great

Expand full comment

He who talks doesn't know. He who knows doesn't talk. Now and then, a little Zen can leave your eyes wide open sir.

Expand full comment

try coming up with your own thought or critique, I didn't like it, he beat the point to death, and he used words that would never be used in conversation, and I know it was 19th c Paris, but still, it picked up a little at the end.

Expand full comment

I actually understood this poem -- which tickles me pink.

That said... I did look up baneful miasma and limpid to see if my inference matched the meaning. A little bit of a fun puzzle?

I used to think poetry was pompous and pretentious. I still think some of it is.

What I've come to realize though is that there are all kinds of kinds living on this earth. If I really don't like something, I don't have to make a big deal about it. I can simply move on.

Expand full comment

Yeah a lot of artists embellish and improvise on their limitations. Poetry ranges from the ordinary or mundane to the profound and profane. It isn't a popularity contest either. I am not fond of academic poetry. I wish I could embrace the haughtier or more obtuse writings more often.

Expand full comment

I love that you used the word haughty. 😂 I'm getting close to publishing a book of poems and I used "haughty" to describe what I once thought of poetry. Apparently, I've changed my mind. 🤭

Expand full comment

What a beauty

Expand full comment

Walking in Paris on Butte-aux-Cailles in the 13e… my photo icon for substack.

Expand full comment

I wonder where the original author ended up. I assume they've passed. Has he moved from the baneful miasma to the limpid region? Perhaps that is a question only God can answer.

Expand full comment

My man, Baudelaire's been dead for almost two centuries.

Expand full comment

Ah. I should have noticed the author at the top. I looked up the transltor. Either way, the question is still relevant. It's not asking if he is dead. It's asking where he ended up.

Expand full comment