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Heres a virtual movie of the legendary French poet Charles Baudelaire (1821 - 1867) reading his poem "La Chevelure" (The Fleece).The superb reading is by Pierre VialaCharles Baudelaire was a 19th century French poet, translator, and literary and art critic whose reputation rests primarily on Les Fleurs du mal; (1857;The Flowers of Evil) which was perhaps the most important and influential poetry collection published in Europe in the 19th century. Similarly, his Petits poèmes en prose (1868; "Little Prose Poems") was the most successful and innovative early experiment in prose poetry of the time.Known for his highly contraversial, and often dark poetry, as well as his translation of the tales of Edgar Allan Poe, Baudelaire's life was filled with drama and strife, from financial disaster to being prosecuted for obscenity and blasphemy. Long after his death many look upon his name as representing depravity and vice: Others see him as being the poet of modern civilization, seeming to speak directly to the 20th century.Kind RegardsJim ClarkAll rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2008Heres one of several translations into English of this wonderful poem...The FleeceO shadowy fleece that falls and curls upon those bareLithe shoulders! O rich perfume of forgetfulness!O ecstasy! To loose upon the midnight airThe memories asleep in this tumultuous hair,I long to rake it in my fingers, tress by tress!Asia the languorous, the burning solitudeOf Africa — a whole world, distant, all but dead —Survives in thy profundities, O odorous wood!My soul, as other souls put forth on the deep floodOf music, sails away upon thy scent instead.There where the sap of life mounts hot in man and tree,And lush desire untamed swoons in the torrid zone,Undulant tresses, wild strong waves, oh, carry me!Dream, like a dazzling sun, from out this ebony seaRises; and sails and banks of rowers propel me on.All the confusion, all the mingled colors, cries,Smells of a busy port, upon my senses beat;Where smoothly on the golden streakèd ripples fliesThe barque, its arms outspread to gather in the skies,Against whose glory trembles the unabating heat.In this black ocean where the primal ocean roars,Drunken, in love with drunkenness, I plunge and drown;Over my dubious spirit the rolling tide outpoursIts peace — oh, fruitful indolence, upon thy shores,Cradled in languor, let me drift and lay me down!Blue hair, darkness made palpable, like the big tentOf desert sky all glittering with many a starThou coverest me — oh, I am drugged as with the blentEffluvia of a sleeping caravan, the scentOf coco oil impregnated with musk and tar.Fear not! Upon this savage mane for ever thy lordWill sow pearls, sapphires, rubies, every stone that gleams,To keep thee faithful! Art not thou the sycamoredOasis whither my thoughts journey, and the dark gourdWhereof I drink in long slow draughts the wine of dreams?— George Dillon & Edna St. Vincent Millay, Flowers of Evil (NY: Harper and Brothers, 1936)

Author: poetryanimations
Keywords: poem animation baudalaire rimbaud verlaine hugo voltaire Réversibilité le balcon L'Ennemi french poetry Poesie Les Fleurs Poem manley poe rossetti
Added: December 21, 2008