Baudelaire, Charles: The Enemy (L'ennemi Angol nyelven)
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L'ennemi (Francia)
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The Enemy (Angol)I think of my gone youth as of a stormy sky
Infrequently transpierced by a benignant sun; Tempest and hail have done their work; and what have I? — How many fruits in my torn garden? — scarcely one. And now that I approach the autumn of my mind, And must reclaim once more the inundated earth — Washed into stony trenches deep as graves I find I wield the rake and hoe, asking, "What is it worth?" Who can assure me, these new flowers for which I toil Will find in the disturbed and reconstructed soil That mystic aliment on which alone they thrive? Oh, anguish, anguish! Time eats up all things alive; And that unseen, dark Enemy, upon the spilled Bright blood we could not spare, battens, and is fulfilled. |