【英文读物】The Flowers of EvilBenedictionWhen by the changeless Power of a Supreme DecreeThe poet issues forth upon this sorry sphere,His mother, horrified, and full of blasphemy,Uplifts her voice to God, who takes compassion on her.Ah, why did I not bear a serpents nest entire,Instead of bringing forth this hideous Child of Doom!Oh cursed be that transient night of vain desireWhen I conceived my expiation in my womb!Yet since among all women thou hast chosen meTo be the degradation of my jaded mate,And since I cannot like a love-leaf wantonlyConsign this stunted monster to the glowing grate,Ill cause thine overwhelming hatred to reboundUpon the cursed tool of thy most wicked spite.Forsooth, the branches of this wretched tree Ill woundAnd rob its pestilential blossoms of their might!So thus, she giveth vent unto her foaming ire,And knowing not the changeless statutes of all times,Herself, amid the flames of hell, prepares the pyre;The consecrated penance of maternal crimes.Yet neath th invisible shelter of an Angels wingThis sunlight-loving infant disinherited,Exhales from all he eats and drinks, and everythingThe ever sweet ambrosia and the nectar red.He trifles with the winds and with the clouds that glide,About the way unto the Cross, he loves to sing,The spirit on his pilgrimage; that faithful guide,Oft weeps to see him joyful like a bird of Spring.All those that he would cherish shrink from him with fear,And some that waxen bold by his tranquility,Endeavour hard some grievance from his heart to tear,And make on him the trial of their ferocity.Sonnet XXVIIIWith pearly robes that wave within the wind,Even when she walks, she seems to dance,Like swaying serpents round those wands entwinedWhich fakirs ware in rhythmic elegance.So like the deserts Blue, and the sands remote,Both, deaf to mortal suffering and to strife,Or like the sea-weeds neath the waves that float,Indifferently she moulds her budding life.Her polished eyes are made of minerals bright,And in her mien, symbolical and cold,Wherein an angel mingles with a sphinx of old,Where all is gold, and steel, and gems, and light,There shines, just like a useless star eternally,The sterile womans frigid majesty.Posthumous RemorseAh, when thou shalt slumber, my darkling love,Beneath a black marble-made statuette,And when thoult have nought for thy house or alcove,But a cavernous den and a damp oubliette.When the tomb-stone, oppressing thy timorous breast,And thy hips drooping sweetly with listless decay,The pulse and desires of mine heart shall arrest,And thy feet from pursuing their adventurous way,Then the grave, that dark friend of my limitless dreams(For the grave ever readeth the poet aright),Amid those long nights, which no slumber redeemsTwill query一What use to thee, incomplete sprightThat thou neer hast unfathomed the tears of the dead?一Then the worms will gnaw deep at thy body, like Dread.The BalconyOh, Mother of Memories! Mistress of Mistresses!Oh, thou all my pleasures, oh, thou all my prayers!Canst thou remember those luscious caresses,The charm of the hearth and the sweet evening airs?Oh, Mother, of Memories, Mistress of Mistresses!Those evenings illumed by the glow of the coal,And those roseate nights with their vaporous wings,How calm was thy breast and how good was thy soul,Twas then we uttered imperishable things,Those evenings illumed by the glow of the coal.How lovely the suns on those hot, autumn nights!How vast were the heavens! and the heart how hale!As I leaned towards you一oh, my Queen of Delights,The scent of thy blood I seemed to inhale.How lovely the sun on those hot, autumn nights!The shadows of night-time grew dense like a pall,And deep through the darkness thine eyes I divined,And I drank of thy breath一oh sweetness, oh gall,And thy feet in my brotherly hands reclined,The shadows of Night-time grew dense like a pall.I know how to call forth those moments so dear,And to live my Past一laid on thy knees一once more,For where should I seek for thy beauties but hereIn thy langorous heart and thy body so pure?I know how to call forth those moments so dear.Those perfumes, those infinite kisses and sighs,Are they born in some gulf to our plummets denied?Like rejuvenate suns that mount up to the skies,That first have been cleansed in the depths of the tide;Oh, perfumes! oh, infinite kisses and sighs!The Possessed OneThe sun is enveloped in crape! like it,0 Moon of my Life! wrap thyself up in shade;At will, smoke or slumber; be silent, be staid,And dive deep down in Dispassions dark pit.I cherish thee thus! But if tis thy mood,Like a star that from out its penumbra appears,To float in the regions where madness careers,Fair dagger! burst forth from thy sheath! tis good.Yea, light up thine eyes at the Fire of Renown!O