The Clock

СловаCharles Baudelaire
МузыкаLaurent Boutonnat
ПереводWilliam Aggeler
Язык английский
Перевод предоставлен

Impassive clock! Terrifying, sinister god,

Whose finger threatens us and says: “Remember!

The quivering Sorrows will soon be shot

Into your fearful heart, as into a target;

Nebulous pleasure will flee toward the horizon

Like an actress who disappears into the wings;

Every instant devours a piece of the pleasure

Granted to every man for his entire season.

Three thousand six hundred times an hour, Second

Whispers: Remember! — Immediately

With his insect voice, Now says: I am the Past

And I have sucked out your life with my filthy trunk!

Remember! Souviens-toi, spendthrift! Esto memor!

(My metal throat can speak all languages.)

Minutes, blithesome mortal, are bits of ore

That you must not release without extracting the gold!

Remember, Time is a greedy player

Who wins without cheating, every round! It's the law.

The daylight wanes; the night deepens; remember!

The abyss thirsts always; the water-clock runs low.

Soon will sound the hour when divine Chance,

When august Virtue, your still virgin wife,

When even Repentance (the very last of inns!),

When all will say: Die, old coward! it is too late!”

The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

© RuMoHoR 2001—2014