De Profundis Clamavi (Baudelaire translation)

“Out  of  the  depths  I  cried…”

Sole being I love!—pity, oh pity me
Here in this hole of darkness where I lie,
Here under leaden skies in lethargy
Where terror lurks and blasphemy stalks by.

Six months the frigid sun floats overhead,
Six months the world lies wrapped in blackest night.
The frozen poles are not so cold and dead—
No birds, no streams, no greening leaves, no light.

Horror, horror! There’s none to equal this:
The grim chaotic glooms of hideous night,
The cutting coldness of the cruel sun.
Oh, how I envy simple beasts their plight!—
Dumb creatures sunk in sleep’s paralysis.
How time creeps by . . . how slow my reel is run!


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