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Charles Baudelaire

spleen

About Me

Charles Pierre Baudelaire (April 9, 1821 – August 31, 1867) was born in Paris, where he remained for most of his life. At the age of six he witnessed his father's death and, being very fond of his mother, was deeply wounded when she got married again. Soon after, moods of intense melancholy developed and Baudelaire began to see himself as being solitary by nature. He received some education in Lyon and at the Collège Louis-le-Grand in Paris, but got himself expelled due to his consistant acts of indiscipline. His magnum opus "Les Fleurs du Mal" sowed the seed of the Symbolist movement in literature. He is known for his translations of Edgar Allan Poe's work.

My Interests

Books:

Salon de 1845, 1845
Salon de 1846, 1846
La Fanfarlo, 1847
Les Fleurs du mal, 1857
Les paradis artificiels, 1860
Réflexions sur Quelques-uns de mes Contemporains, 1861
Le Peintre de la Vie Moderne, 1863
Curiosités Esthétiques, 1868
L'art romantique, 1868
Le Spleen de Paris/Petits Poémes en Prose, 1869
Oeuvres Posthumes et Correspondance Générale, 1887-1907
Fusées, 1897
Mon Coeur Mis à Nu, 1897
Oeuvres Complètes, 1922-53 (19 vols.)
Mirror of Art, 1955
The Essence of Laughter, 1956
Curiosités Esthétiques, 1962
The Painter of Modern Life and Other Essays, 1964
Baudelaire as a Literary Critic, 1964
Arts in Paris 1845-1862, 1965
Selected Writings on Art and Artist, 1972
Selected Letters of Charles Baudelaire, 1986
Critique d'art; Critique musicale, 1992

My Blog

Albatross

Often, to amuse themselves, the crew of the shipWould fell an albatross, the largest of sea birds,Indolent companions of their tripAs they slide across the deep sea's bitters.Scarcely had they dropped...
Posted by Charles Baudelaire on Tue, 10 Apr 2007 05:26:00 PST

The Evil Monk

The ancient cloisters on their lofty walls Had holy Truth in painted frescoes shown, And, seeing these, the pious in those halls Felt their cold, lone austereness less alone. At that time wh...
Posted by Charles Baudelaire on Tue, 10 Apr 2007 05:25:00 PST

The Sadness of the Moon

The Moon more indolently dreams to-night Than a fair woman on her couch at rest, Caressing, with a hand distraught and light, Before she sleeps, the contour of her breast. Upon her silken av...
Posted by Charles Baudelaire on Tue, 10 Apr 2007 05:23:00 PST