LE
LETHÉ
Viens
sur mon cœur, âme cruelle et soured,
Tigre
adore, monster aux airs indolents;
Je
veux longtemps plonger mes doigts tremblants
Dans
l’épaisseur de ta criniere lourde;
Dans
tes joupons remplis de ton parfum
Ensevelir
ma tête endolorie,
Et
respire, comme une fleur flétrie,
Le
doux relent de mon amour defunct.
Je
veux dormir! dormir plutôt que vive !
Dans
un sommeil aussi doux que la mort,
J’étalerais
mes baisers sans remord
Sur
ton beau corps poli comme le cuivre.
Pour
engloutir mes sanglots apaisés
Rien
ne me vaut l’abîme de ta couche;
L’oubli
puissant habite sur ta bouche,
Et
le Léthe coule dans tes baisers.
A
mon destin, désormais mon délice,
J’obérais
comme un prédstiné;
Martyr
docile, innocent condamné,
Don’t
la fervour attise le supplice,
Je
sucerai, pour noyer ma rancœur,
Le
néphentes et le bonne ciguë,
Aux
bouts charmants de cette gorge aigues
Qui
n’a jamais emprisonné de cœur.
IV
The
Lethe
For
a longtime I have wanted to plunge my trembling fingers
Into
the depths of your heavy mane of hair;
Deaf and cruel soul, come
to my heart,
Adored
tigress, monster with the indolent airs,
In
your perfumed lap I have long wanted
To bury my aching head,
And
like an old fetid flower breath in
The
gentle collapse of my defunct Love.
I
want to sleep, Sleep more than live
In
a sleep that is as gentle and as soft as Death.
Remorselessly,
I’ll spread my kisses
All
over your beautiful sun-kissed body.
For
nothing is quite like the abyss of your bed
To
soothe my burning tears;
Forgetfulness
inhabits your lips, and in the river
of oblivion, I am pulled into their powerful currents.
From
herein my fated delicacy
Appears
to be obeying you like one predestined;
A
docile martyr, an innocent condemned;
The
fervour merely fuels the torture,
And
to drown all of my remaining rancour, I have considered
Pitcher
Plants or the good hemlock,
At
the bottom of that charming steep gorge
Which
has never imprisoned a single soul.
Whenever people ask me why do I bother translating the
poetry of Charles Baudelaire, as he is one of the most translated poets that
exists in the literary pantheon, I merely will guide them to the following couplet,
which for me is one of the finest in the French language.
L’oubli
puissant habite sur ta bouche,
Et
le Léthe coule dans tes baisers.
Now, there are many ways you could approach
translating this beautiful couplet. For instance…
Oblivion
lives upon your lips,
And
the Lethe flows through your kisses.
This is a rather traditional way of translating it, as
the translator is remaining almost as loyal as they possibly can changing as
little of the words used by the poet in the original and with any changes striving
to keep as much the original meaning, which can be very difficult at times. L’oubli
pussiant swapped for Oblivion as powerful forgetfulness, which is literally
what we have in the French simply doesn’t cut it. Hence Oblivion is the word of
choice here. Now lips instead of mouth, also, is the next change. As if you
say..
A
powerful forgetfulness lives in your mouth
This is the French line translated literally as it is
into English, it simply doesn’t make any sense. It sounds like a dental issue! Are
we talking about dental plaque? No, impossible. So, we take a few liberties and
we come up with the couplet above. So
why then did I come up with the following?
Forgetfulness
inhabits your lips, and in the river
of oblivion, I am pulled into their powerful currents.
One of the principal changes is taking out the reference
to Lethe, which most contemporary readers will not understand. Classics is no
longer a study in most universities, so the reference will most probably be
lost upon them, and moreover, Lethe in English sounds flat and I very much
wanted to get the idea of a passionate kiss across in English, as this is what
the poet is describing here. And it is a monumental couplet for this reason, as
Baudelaire, as only Baudelaire can do, describes a passionate kiss in the most
poetic way possible but poetic in a very visceral and profound way, as this is exactly
what a kiss should feel like. A river of forgetfulness where your partner’s
lips are attaching gently onto yours and they are pulling you in like a current
in a river, a very powerful current which is very dangerous, because it is so
strong. I really wanted to get that feeling across, of the passionate kiss.
Now, I want to show you now, after I have explained my
choices a few existing translations that are out there of the same couplet, so
that you can see why, perhaps, I feel so strongly about the need to translate
Baudelaire into English in a realistic manner which may bring him to more
English speaking readers.
Potent
oblivion inhabits your mouth,
And
Lethe flows in your kisses.
(
Translation Nathan Brown )
Forgetfulness
is moistening your breath,
Lethe
itself runs smoothly in your kiss.
(
James McGowan )
Forgetfulness
dwells in your mouth,
And
Lethe flows from your kiss.
(
New Directions )
As you can see, everyone went for mouth! Jesus, bring
out the mouth wash!
