Ja te obozavam kao nebo nocu,
     O posudo tuge, i tvoju mirnocu
  Ja ljubim sve vise sto mi bjezis dalje
     Pa i makar mislim da te tama salje
  Da bi ironicno razmak povecala
   Sto ga je do neba vec priroda dala.

     U divljem naletu nasrcem i skacem
   I k'o crv lesinu ne bih dao jacem!
     I meni je draga, u ocaju slijepom,
Cak i ta hladnoca sto te cini lijepom.

I adore you as much as the nocturnal vault,
     O vase of sadness, most taciturn one,
             I love you all the more because you flee from me,
                   And because you appear, ornament of my nights,
                           More ironically to multiply the leagues
                                   That separate my arms from the blue infinite.

                                         I advance to attack, and I climb to assault,
                                               Like a swarm of maggots after a cadaver,
                                                         And I cherish, implacable and cruel beast,
                                                               Even that coldness which makes you more beautiful.

More than night's vault, it's you that I adore,
Vessel of sorrow, silent one, the more
Because you flee from me, and seem to place,
Ornament of my nights! more leagues of space
Ironically between me and you
Than part me from these vastitudes of blue.

I charge, attack, and mount to the assault
As worms attack a corpse within a vault.
And cherish even the coldness that you boast,
By which, harsh beast, you subjugate me most.

I worship you, O proud and taciturn,
As I do night's high vault; O sorrow's urn,
I love you all the more because you flee
And seem, gem of my nights, ironically
To multiply the weary leagues that sunder
My arms from all infinity's blue wonder.

I skirmish and I climb to the attack,
I, a worms' chorus on a corpse's back,
O fierce cruel beast, I cherish to the full
The very chill that makes you beautiful.

Ich bete dich an wie des Nachthimmels Schauer,
O große Stumme, o Urne der Trauer!
Und lieb nur heißer dich, weil, Schöne, du mich fliehst,
Und weil, Stern meiner Nacht, voll Hohn du niedersiehst
Und spöttisch lächelnd scheinst die große Kluft zu weiten,
Die mich getrennt hält von den blauen Ewigkeiten.

Ich stürme zum Angriff, ich klettre hinauf,
Wie zu Leichen sich hindrängt der Würmer Hauf,
Und lieb dich, grausam Tier, ob auch dein Stolz mich höhne,
Im kalten Glanz, durch den nur größer deine Schöne.

© Copyright: graphic arts; animation & design by   Carmen Ezgeta

Charles Baudelaire

(1821-1867)

Prijevod:

Tin Ujevic  i  Dunja Robic

 (1891-1955)                    (1922-1999)

Translation:

William Aggeler; Jacques LeClercq; Roy Campbell

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                                           Je t'adore a l'égal de la voűte nocturne,
                                       Ô vase de tristesse, ô grande taciturne,
                                 Et t'aime d'autant plus, belle, que tu me fuis,
                             Et que tu me parais, ornement de mes nuits,
                       Plus ironiquement accumuler les lieues
                   Qui séparent mes bras des immensités bleues.

               Je m'avance a l'attaque, et je grimpe aux assauts,
         Comme apres un cadavre un choeur de vermisseaux,
     Et je chéris, ô bęte implacable et cruelle!
Jusqu'a cette froideur par oů tu m'es plus belle!