The Evil Monk [The cloisters old, expounded on their walls]

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Title:     The Evil Monk [The cloisters old, expounded on their walls]
Author: Charles Baudelaire [More Titles by Baudelaire]

Translator: Cyril Scott

The cloisters old, expounded on their walls
With paintings, the Beatic Verity,
The which--adorning their religious halls,
Enriched the frigidness of their Austerity.

In days when Christian seeds bloomed o'er the land,
Full many a noble monk unknown to-day,
Upon the field of tombs would take his stand,
Exalting Death in rude and simple way.

My soul is a tomb where--bad monk that I be--
I dwell and search its depths from all eternity,
And nought bedecks the walls of the odious spot.

Oh sluggard monk! when shall I glean aright
From the living spectacle of my bitter lot,
To mold my handywork and mine eyes' Delight?

[The end]
Charles Baudelaire's poem: Evil Monk

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