The End of the Day (La Fin de la journée)

Under a sky that’s pallid and dim
Peevish life jumps and squirms for no reason
Impudent, noisy and heavy of limb,
Until, softly, upon the horizon:

Voluptuous night starts to reclaim,
Soothing everything, even starvation,
Canceling everything, even shame,
“At last,” the poet’s incantation.

“My mind, no less than my spine
So ardently yearns for repose;
My heart full of gloomy design

I recline on my back and I doze
Within your soft curtains enclosed
O refreshing shadows, ever blind!”

[Original poem here.]


One comment

  1. ebovee

    The site,, to which all ‘Original poem here’ links point, drops a trojan on anyone unlucky enough not to have the right anti-virus heuristics. After thinking about this for a moment, I realised Charles Baudelaire would probably approve.

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