Translation: The Enemy (Baudelaire)
by evie-brill-paffard
My youth has been nothing but stormy and savage,
A tempest of thunder and lightning and rain;
Though glimpses of sunlight have lessened the damage
Few ripe fruits now in my garden remain.
My mind has reached its autumnal phase,
With the spade and the rake I begin my toil
In earthy hollows as deep as graves
To gather anew the rain flooded soil.
And who knows whether my dreams of new flowers
Will find in this earth washed bare like the shore,
The mystic elixir that would give them might?
Alas, alas! Our lives are eaten away by the hours,
And at our hearts the hidden Enemy gnaws
And sucks our blood like a parasite!