Read without ads and support Scribd by becoming a Scribd Premium Reader.
See Premium Plans
 
- 1 -
Selected Poems from
MALDOROR
 by Lautréamont (1868)
Translated by Sonja Elen Kisa (1998)Illustrated by François Aubéron
FIRST CANTO
Stanza 1: The Reader Forewarned
God grant that the reader, emboldened and having become at present asfierce as what he is reading, find, without loss of bearings, his way, hiswild and treacherous passage through the desolate swamps of these som-bre, poison-soaked pages; for, unless he should bring to his reading a rig-orous logic and a sustained mental effort at least as strong as his distrust,the lethal fumes of this book shall dissolve his soul as water does sugar. Itis not right that everyone read the pages that follow: a sole few will savourthis bitter fruit without danger. As a result, wavering soul, before penetrat-ing further into such uncharted barrens, draw back, step no deeper. Mark my words: draw back, step no deeper, like the eyes of a son respectfullyflinching away from his mother's august contemplation, or rather, like anacute angle formation of cold-sensitive cranes stretching beyond the eyecan reach, soaring through the winter silence in deep meditation, undertight sail towards a focal point on the horizon, from where there suddenlyrises a peculiar gust of wind, omen of a storm. The oldest crane, alone atthe forefront, on seeing this, shakes his head like a rational person andconsequently his beak too, which he clicks, as he is uneasy (and so would Ibe, in his shoes); whilst his old, feather-stripped neck, contemporary of 
 
- 2 -three generations of cranes, sways in irritated undulations that foreshadow the oncoming thunderstorm. Afterlooking with composure several times in every direction with eyes that bespeak experience, the first crane (for heis the privileged one to show his tail feathers to the other, intellectually inferior cranes) vigilantly cries out like amelancholy sentinel driving back the common enemy, and then carefully steers the nose of the geometric figure(it would be a triangle, but the third side, formed in space by these curious avian wayfarers, is invisible), be it toport, or to starboard, like a skilful captain; and, manoeuvring with wings that seem no larger than those of a spar-row, he thus adopts, since he is no dumb creature, a different and safer philosophical course.
Stanza 6: The Nails (The Reader as an Accomplice)
One should let one's nails grow for a fortnight. Oh! How sweet it is to brutally snatch from his bed a child withno hair yet on his upper lip, and, with eyes wide open, to pretend to suavely stroke his forehead, brushing back his beautiful locks! Then, suddenly, at the moment when he least ex-pects it, to sink one's long nails into his tender breast, being careful,though, not to kill him; for if he died, there would be no later viewingof his misery. Then, one drinks the blood, licking the wounds; and, dur-ing the entire procedure, which ought to last no shorter than an aeon,the boy cries. Nothing could be better than his blood, warm and justfreshly squeezed out as I have described, if it weren't for his tears, bit-ter as salt. Mortal one, haven't you ever tasted your blood, when bychance you cut your finger? Tasty, isn't it? For it has no taste. Besides,can you not recall one day, absorbed in your dismal thoughts, havinglifted your deeply cupped palm to your sickly face, drenched by thedownpour from your eyes; the said hand then making its fatal way toyour mouth, which, from this vessel chattering like the teeth of theschoolboy who glances sidelong at the one born to oppress him, suckedthe tears in long draughts? Tasty, aren't they? For they taste of vinegar.A taste reminiscent of the tears of your true love, except a child's tearsare so much more pleasing to the palate. He is incapable of deceit, forhe does not yet know evil: but the most loving of women is bound tobetray sooner or later... This I deduce by analogy, despite my ignoranceof what friendship means, what love means (I doubt I will ever accepteither of these, at least not from the human race). So, since your bloodand tears do not disgust you, go ahead, feed confidently on the adoles-cent's tears and blood. Blindfold him, while you tear open his quiveringflesh; and, after listening to his resplendent squeals for a good fewhours, similar to those hoarse shrieks of death one hears from thethroats of the mortally wounded on battlefields, you then, running outfaster than an avalanche, fly back in from the room next door, pretend-ing to rush to his rescue. You untie his hands, with their swollen nerves and veins, you restore sight to his dis-traught eyes, as you resume licking his tears and blood. Oh, what a genuine and noble change of heart! That di-vine spark within us, which so rarely appears, is revealed; too late! How the heart longs to console the innocentone we have harmed. "O child, who has just undergone such cruel torture, who could have ever committed suchan unspeakable crime upon you! You poor soul! The agony you must be going through! And if your motherwere to know of this, she would be no closer to death, so feared by evildoers, than I am now. Alas! What, then,are good and evil? Might they be one and the same thing, by which in our furious rage we attest our impotenceand our passionate thirst to attain the infinite by even the maddest means? Or might they be two separate things?Yes... they'd better be one and the same... for, if not, what shall become of me on the Day of Judgment? Forgiveme, child. Here before your noble and sacred eyes stands the man who crushed your bones and tore off the stripsof flesh dangling from various parts of your body. Was it a frenzied inspiration of my delirious mind, was it a
 
- 3 -deep inner instinct independent of my reason, such as that of the eagle tearing at its prey, that drove me to com-mit this crime? And yet, as much as my victim, I suffered! Forgive me, child. Once we are freed from this tran-sient life, I want us to be entwined for evermore, becoming but one being, my mouth fused to your mouth. Buteven so, my punishment will not be complete. So you will tear at me, without ever stopping, with your teeth andnails at the same time. I will adorn and embalm my body with perfumes and garlands for this expiatory holo-caust; and together we shall suffer, I from being torn, you from tearing me... my mouth fused to yours. O blond-haired child, with your eyes so gentle, will you now do what I advise you? Despite yourself, I wish you to do it,and you will set my conscience at rest." And in saying this, you will have wronged a human being and be lovedby that same being: therein lies the greatest conceivable happiness. Later, you could take him to the hospital, forthe crippled boy will be in no condition to earn a living. They will proclaim you a hero, and centuries from now,laurel crowns and gold medals will cover your bare feet on your ancient iconic tomb. O you, whose name I willnot inscribe upon this page consecrated to the sanctity of crime, I know your forgiveness was as boundless as theuniverse. But look, I'm still here!
SECOND CANTO
Stanza 13: The Shipwreck and Sharks (Maldoror's First Love)
I was seeking a soul resembling mine, and I could not find it. I searched throughout the seven seas; my persever-ance proved of no use. Yet I could not remain alone. I needed someone who'd approve of my nature; there had tobe somebody out there with the same ideas as me. It was morning;the sun rose over the horizon, in all its splendour, and here rises be-fore my eyes a young man as well, whose presence made flowerssprout in his wake. He approached me, and holding out his hand: "Ihave come to you who seek me. God bless this happy day." But Ireplied: "Begone! I never summoned you. I don't need your compan-ionship..." It was evening; night was already drawing the darkness of her veil over nature. A beautiful woman, whose form I could barelymake out, was also drawing the influence of her enchantment overme. She looked upon me with compassion, however she dared notspeak to me. So I said: "Come closer, so I may see your face clearly,for at this distance the starlight is too faint for me to make out its fea-tures." Then, modestly, with her eyes lowered, she glided across thelawn's grass, coming to my side. As soon as I saw her: "I see thatgoodness and justice have found a home in your heart: we couldnever live together. You are now admiring my beauty, which hasoverwhelmed many a woman, but sooner or later, you'll regret everhaving given your love to me, for you do not know my soul. Not thatI would ever be unfaithful to you: to she who bares her heart to mewith such abandon and trust, I bare mine back with equal trust andabandon, but get it into your head lest you ever forget it: Wolves andlambs look not on one another with bedroom eyes." So what was Iwaiting for, I who rejected in such disgust what was most beautiful inhumanity! What I was waiting for, I really couldn't tell you. I haven'tyet gotten into the habit of keeping a daily record of the phenomena that occur within my psyche, according tothe practice recommended by philosophy. I sat on a cliff, by the sea. A ship had just set full sail to escape thesewaters: a minute speck had just appeared at the horizon, making gradual headway, driven on by gusts, and grow-ing more powerful by the minute. The storm was about to swoop down on us, and already the sky was growingdark, overcast in a black almost as hideous as the human heart. The vessel, which was a great warship, had justcast all her anchors, in fear of being swept against the rocky coast. The wind roared with rage from all four
Search
Search History:
Searching...
Result 00 of 00
00 results for result for
  • p.
    • Notes
    Load more