La Muse Malade (the Sick Muse) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCB ABAB CCB BBB B CBBA DBEA FBB BBC G B CACA CBCB HHI JJI K C LAGA MAGA FFC CAA B C NBANABBN CCC BBA G| Ma pauvre muse h las qu'as tu donc ce matin | A |
| Tes yeux creux sont peupl s de visions nocturnes | B |
| Et je vois tour tour r fl chis sur ton teint | C |
| La folie et l'horreur froides et taciturnes | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| Le succube verd tre et le rose lutin | A |
| T'ont ils vers la peur et l'amour de leurs urnes | B |
| Le cauchemar d'un poing despotique et mutin | A |
| T'a t il noy e au fond d'un fabuleux Minturnes | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| Je voudrais qu'exhalant l'odeur de la sant | C |
| Ton sein de pensers forts f t toujours fr quent | C |
| Et que ton sang chr tien coul t flots rythmiques | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| Comme les sons nombreux des syllabes antiques | B |
| O r gnent tour tour le p re des chansons | B |
| Phoebus et le grand Pan le seigneur des moissons | B |
| - | |
| The Sick Muse | B |
| - | |
| My poor Muse alas what ails you today | C |
| Your hollow eyes are full of nocturnal visions | B |
| I see in turn reflected on your face | B |
| Horror and madness cold and taciturn | A |
| - | |
| Have the green succubus the rosy elf | D |
| Poured out for you love and fear from their urns | B |
| Has the hand of Nightmare cruel and despotic | E |
| Plunged you to the bottom of some weird Minturnae | A |
| - | |
| I would that your bosom fragrant with health | F |
| Were constantly the dwelling place of noble thoughts | B |
| And that your Christian blood would flow in rhythmic waves | B |
| - | |
| Like the measured sounds of ancient verse | B |
| Over which reign in turn the father of all songs | B |
| Phoebus and the great Pan lord of harvest | C |
| - | |
| - | |
| Translated by William Aggeler | G |
| - | |
| The Sick Muse | B |
| - | |
| Alas poor Muse what ails you so today | C |
| Your hollow eyes with midnight visions burn | A |
| And turn about in your complexion play | C |
| Madness and horror cold and taciturn | A |
| - | |
| Green succubus and rosy imp have they | C |
| Poured you both fear and love into one glass | B |
| Or with his tyrant fist the nightmare say | C |
| Submerged you in some fabulous morass | B |
| - | |
| I wish that breathing health your breast might nourish | H |
| Ever robuster thoughts therein to flourish | H |
| And that your Christian blood in rhythmic flow | I |
| - | |
| With those old polysyllables would chime | J |
| Where turn about reigned Phoebus sire of rhyme | J |
| And Pan the lord of harvests long ago | I |
| - | |
| - | |
| Translated by Roy Campbell | K |
| - | |
| La Muse malade | C |
| - | |
| - | |
| poor Muse alas what ails thee now for thy | L |
| great hollow eyes with sights nocturnal burn | A |
| and in they changing pallor I descry | G |
| madness and frozen horror turn by turn | A |
| - | |
| did rosy sprites or pale green succubi | M |
| pour love or panic from their dream filled urn | A |
| did the mad fist of despot nightmare try | G |
| to drown thee where the fiends of hell sojourn | A |
| - | |
| I would that thou wert always filled with health | F |
| and manly thoughts undaunted that a wealth | F |
| of Christian blood were thine which always flowed | C |
| - | |
| in calm broad rhythms like a Grecian ode | C |
| now echoing forth Apollo's golden strain | A |
| and now great Pan the lord of ripening grain | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| Translated by Lewis Piaget Shanks | B |
| - | |
| The Sick Mused | C |
| - | |
| My impoverished muse alas What have you for me this morning | N |
| Your empty eyes are stocked with nocturnal visions | B |
| In your cheek's cold and taciturn reflection | A |
| I see insanity and horror forming | N |
| The green succubus and the red urchin | A |
| Have they poured you fear and love from their urns | B |
| The nightmare of a mutinous fist that despotically turns | B |
| Does it drown you at the bottom of a loch beyond searching | N |
| - | |
| I wish that your breast exhaled the scent of sanity | C |
| That your womb of thought was not a tomb more frequently | C |
| And that your Christian blood flowed around a buoy that was rhythmical | C |
| - | |
| Like the numberless sounds of antique syllables | B |
| Where reigns in turn the father of songs | B |
| Phoebus and the great Pan the harvest sovereign | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| Translated by William A Sigler | G |
Charles Baudelaire
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
About La Muse Malade (the Sick Muse)
La Muse Malade (the Sick Muse) is a poem by Charles Baudelaire. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
Write your comment about La Muse Malade (the Sick Muse) poem by Charles Baudelaire
Best Poems of Charles Baudelaire
