In the second part, Baudelaire turned his perspective to the outside. He described in detail a dirty and beautiful Paris.
This is the bottom of Paris, secular but real-
A swan escaped from its cage like an exile; Seven gloomy old people with similar fate passed by in the street ... In addition, I really like to introduce that ugly hunchbacked old woman with the expression of "Eve at the age of 80" (as if it could be used as an example of a nickname, oh, ha)-they used to be cute and had been fooling around. ...
Everything, even ugliness, has become a spectacle. The good, the bad and the ugly are all life. Come to this world, feel everything, even if this terrible scenery is hazy and far away, there are things that make the poet intoxicated.
Besides, everything will change, and the poet must have felt the change in Paris. ...
Nihility and chaos eventually lead to destruction ... This is the third part, "wine". The drunk tried to escape into the fantasy paradise with tireless enthusiasm. ...
Perhaps this is why people subconsciously seek drunkenness to escape from reality when they want light and friendship.
In the fourth part, the author describes the messy love between lesbians and poets in "Flowers of Evil" (it is said that this guy is still a drug addict), and describes this "morbid" (pervert? ) of the world ...
The world we live in now is actually very "magical" and weird, and it exists with beautiful things. Sweating.
This cruel, absurd, endless (world of mortals? ) "Game" aroused the poet's self-loathing, and the soul who drank too much and suffered finally rebelled.
It seems that only death is the only comfort.
He called Satan "the most learned and handsome angel" and asked him to "pity my endless suffering" ... For that glorious and beautiful day, the poet shouted: "Son of Cain, rise to heaven and throw God down!"
In the sixth part, the poet describes various forms of death with longing: the death of a lover, the death of an artist …
"Flower of Evil" ends with this sentence: "As long as this fire still burns our minds, we will go deep into the abyss; What happened to the dungeon and the paradise hall? Go to the unknown world and discover novelty! "
Reading the whole book roughly, on the surface, of course, looks ridiculous. In fact, combined with the author's writing background, life experience and reading experience, every article is like his inner struggle to seize a glimmer of hope when he is desperate.
This wonderful flower, which bloomed in the transformation period of French poetry, brought great honor to Baudelaire in his later years.
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Strange leaden sky,
As anxious as your fate,
Where do ideas fall into your emptiness?
In the soul? Answer me, prodigal son.
I am insatiable for it.
Dark and impermanent things,
But will not be expelled from Latin paradise.
Ovid groaned like that.
The sky tears like a beach,
You are my proud mirror;
Your sad cloud
This is my dream cars,
Your light is my heart.
The reflection of the happy dungeon.
I turned gold into iron by your hand.
Turned heaven into a dungeon;
Under the shadow of dark clouds
I found the precious body,
I returned to the shore of the sky.
Built a huge sarcophagus.
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There is no terror in this world.
Beyond the cold and cruelty of the frozen sun
And this misty and chaotic night.
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Ah! How vast the world is in broad daylight!
How small the world in my memory is!
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Free man, you will cherish the sea forever!
The sea is your mirror; In its endless expansion
In the waves, you stare at your soul;
Your spirit is an equally painful abyss.
You like to throw yourself into the arms of your reflection;
You embrace it with your eyes, arms and heart,
Sometimes because of this wild and unruly complaint,
Make their own voices.
You are gloomy and silent;
Dude, no one can reach the bottom of your abyss,
Oh, sea, no one knows your hidden treasure,
You all keep your secrets!
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Your clear eyes said to me:
"eccentric lover, what good am I to you?"
-May you be charming and not talkative! Everything will stimulate my heart,
Apart from the naivety of ancient animals,
It doesn't want to invite me to sleep with soothing hands.
Show its terrible secrets,
I don't want to reveal the dark legend it wrote with fire.
I hate passion, the spirit bothers me!
Let's love each other tenderly. Evil love for God.
Lurking in the outpost, pulling his deadly bow.
I am familiar with the weapons in his ancient armory;
Sin, terror and madness! Ah, pale daisies!
Are you like me, an autumn day,
Ah, my white and cold Margaret?
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The happiest angel, do you know anxiety?
Shame, guilt, crying, boredom,
Those terrible nights,
A blank fear shrinks the heart into a crumpled paper?
The happiest angel, do you know anxiety?
The kindest angel, do you know hatred?
Fists clenched in the dark, bitter tears,
At that time, Nemesis sounded the drum in her dungeon.
Pretending to be a leader and controlling our abilities?
The kindest angel, do you know hatred?
The healthiest angel, do you know a fever?
It runs along the high walls of gray charities,
Drag around like an exile,
Lips trembling, looking for sparse sunshine?
The healthiest angel, do you know about fever?
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Be polished by years
Shiny furniture
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On the throne in the air, I am like the mysterious Sphinx.
The heart made of snow is integrated with the white of swan;
I hate moving the line,
I never cry or laugh.
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Many gems are buried in
Darkness and forgetfulness,
Stay away from pickaxes and tentacles.
Many flowers are helpless.
In deep loneliness,
Give off a mysterious fragrance.
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You are a clear autumn sky, bright and pink!
But sadness rises in my heart like sea water,
When the tide recedes, it stays on my depressed lips.
Its bitter and muddy burning memory.
-Your hand slides to my crazy chest in vain;
Honey, it's looking for someone
A place plundered by women's claws and fangs.
Stop searching for my heart, those wild animals have eaten it.
My heart is a palace that has been ravaged by everyone;
They are drinking, killing each other and pulling each other's hair!
A fragrance wafts around your naked chest. ...
Oh, beauty, the hard cangue of the soul, come on!
Please use your eyes as bright as a holiday,
Burn/burn the fragments left by these beasts!
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She can only go deep into the prison,
Accumulate firewood to punish yourself.