“Posthumous Remorse” by Charles Baudelaire
September 10, 2012 | Miscellania
The poem for this week is “Posthumous Remorse” by Charles Baudelaire. Taking into account last week’s poem, it appears I have a bit of a macabre theme going on with this site (it is unintentional, I assure you). Regardless, I hope that the poem moves you; be it to joy, fear, melancholy, or some other emotion.
Before I get into the poem, I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for their patience with the lack of updating on the site lately. I am still adjusting to a new work schedule, and finding myself more often than not simply too exhausted to write when I get home. I am going to try to work on this, so please hang with me in the meantime. I appreciate it.
“Posthumous Remorse” by Charles Baudelaire
When you go to sleep, my gloomy beauty, below a black marble monument, when from alcove and manor you are reduced to damp vault and hollow grave;
when the stone—pressing on your timorous chest and sides already lulled by a charmed indifference—halts your heart from beating, from willing, your feet from their bold adventuring,
then the tomb, confidant to my infinite dream (since the tomb understands the poet always), through those long nights in which slumber is banished,
will say to you: “What does it profit you, imperfect courtisan, not to have known what the dead weep for?” —And the worm will gnaw at your hide like remorse.
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