The Archangelical
The Tomb
Criminal immensity cracked vase of the immensity limitless ruin
flaccid immensity which overcomes meI am spinelessthe universe is guity [
coupable
] winged madness my madnesstears open the immensity and the immensity tears at meI am alonethe blind will read these linesin interminable tunnelsI fall within the imensity which falls into itself it is blacker than my deaththe sun is black the beauty of a being
is the depths of caves a cry of definitive night what loves in the lightis the desire of the nightthe shiver by which it is frozenI lieand the universe nails itself to my demented liesthe immensity and me we denounce the lies of one anothertruth dies [
muert
]and I cry that truth lies [
ment
]
1Originally a separate poem, entitled “The Sorrow”2Limitless devastation (MS1)3the meauty of an angel... ...the cry(MS1) the beauty of a girl... ...the cry (MS 2) ...the cry (MS3 & TS)
my sugary headthat fever wears outis the suicide of truthnon-love is truthand all lies in the absence of lovenothing
exists which does not liecompared to non-lovelove is cowardly and does not lovelove is a parody of non-lovetruth a parody of the liethe universe a gay suicide within non-lovethe immensity falls into itself not knowing what to dofor the others everything is at peace
the worlds turning majestically in their calm monotony the universe is in me as it is in itself nothing separates us any moreI run into it within myself in the infinite calm where laws enchainit glides toward the impossible – immensely horrorof a world turning aroundthe object of desire is more distantthe glory of man ishowever great they may bein the will of an otherI amthe world is with mepushed outside of the possible
4...in the world... (MS1)5to the others everything seems at peace (MS 1)6...out beyond [
par-delà
] the possible (MS 1)
I am nothing but the laughterof the infantile night wherein falls the immensity I am the deadI am the lindthe airless shadow like rivers in the seathe noise and the light in melose themselves endlessly I am the fatherand the tombof the heavensthe excess of darknessis the burst of the starthe cold of the grave is a diedeath rolls the dieand the depths of the heavens jubilatethe night which falls within me.
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Georges Bataille - The Archangelical (new translation)
This is my own translation of Bataille's "epic poem," "L'Archangélique" (1942, republished in 1967). This version corrects the erroneous or awkward renderings in the published English translation by Mark Spitzer, which was consulted in the course of this translation.
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