Monday, September 22, 2014

Baudelaire and Mabon

As I sit at my desk working on my eBay store, I can feel the cooling breezes come through my screened windows. Today is the last day of Summer and not a day too soon. Tomorrow we celebrate Mabon, or Autumn Equinox, and I know a lot of people who are more than excited about it. Now we watch the leaves turn various shades of golds and reds, drink warm apple cider and eat anything that tastes like pumpkin. We now change our wardrobes from shorts and sandals to sweaters and pants. For me, Autumn is always a time of mystery and solitude, giving me more than wonder as to the Otherworld and those who (and what) inhabit it. In fact, I even wrote a book about a little town named Mabon and how it changes a woman's life forever - click HERE for more details.

Okay, shameless promotion now over (grin).

I thought that I would post a poem by one of my favourite poets and decadents that expresses his thoughts regarding Autumn.

So, without further ado - I present to you Autumn Song by Charles Baudelaire.


Shortly we will plunge within the frigid gloom,
Farewell swift summer brightness; all too short--
I hear already sounding with a death-like boom
The wood that falls upon the pavement of the court.

The whole of winter enters in my Being--pain,
Hate, honor, labour hard and forced--and dread,
And like the northern sun upon its polar plane
My heart will soon be but a stone, iced and red.

I listen trembling unto every log that falls,
The scaffold, which they build, has not a duller sound,
My spirits waver, like the trembling tower walls
That shake--with every echoing blow the builders pound.

Meeseemeth--as to these monotonous blows I sway,
They nail for one a coffin lid, or sound a knell--
For whom? Autumn now--and summer yesterday!
This strange mysterious noise betokens a farewell.
I love within your oblong eyes the verdant rays,
My sweet! but bitter everything to-day meseems:
And nought--your love, the boudoir, nor the flickering blaze,
Can replace the sun that o'er the screen streams.

And yet bemother and caress me, tender heart!
Even me the thankless and the worthless one;
Beloved or sister--unto me the sweets impart
Of a glorious autumn or a sinking sun.

Ephemeral task! the beckoning the beckoning empty tomb is set!
Oh grant me--as upon your knees my head I lay,
(Because the white and torrid summer I regret),
To taste the parted season's mild and amber ray.

 photo copyright 2014 Kimberly B. Richardson

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