THE ENEMY : Charles Baudelaire : A transcreation

My youth was nothing but a tenebrous storm,
Pierced sometimes by brilliant rays of sun;
The thunder and the rain wreaked such havoc,
That in my garden few fruits are ripe.

Now I’ve reached the autumn of my mind,
And I need the shovels and the rakes
To sow anew the inundated earth,
Where rain dug holes like burial mounds.

Who knows if those new flowers of my dreams
Will find in this washed out soil
The mysterious elements to make them thrive?

O grief ! O grief ! time eats away our lives,
And the dark Enemy gnaws at our heart and sucks
Our blood, on which he thrives.

To my woman

Oh woman of mine...
Why do you want me to be
a mirror, always,
to see yourself
through my eyes.
The primal need,
reflection,
touch for touch,
kiss for kiss,
blow for blow?

You search my eyes
for your own passions,
desires…
Disappointment,
sharp as thorns
make you bleed.
I watch
helpless,
distant.

Dear heart.
Don’t you know,
I love you
I want you
in my own way,
on my terms?
I crave abandon,
of losing myself in you,
your eyes.
your lips
your body.
I crave freedom, too
in wild days, wilder nights,
on my own terms.

But not today, my love,
not just now.
I have to go,
back where I belong.
To my golden cage,
built with infinite patience,
step by tiny step.

I go back there.
Time and time again.
The doors open for me,
the golden perch beckons.
I go inside, I close the door.
comfort, like cotton wool,
delicious, warm,
wraps me up,
smothers me.
And I want to run….
To open skies,
new landscapes,
those ‘sawdust restaurants with oyster shells’
on ‘streets that follow like a tedious argument’
hackneyed images, words, clichés….
with you? without you?

Woman of mine,
when will you understand,
this need to go back
to my creation.
My freedom,
is but a foray,
momentary
a step outside my gilded cage…

I cannot spread my wings,
to embrace
the void
of your existence,
of your world.
Doubts,
longings,
misgivings.
The sudden swings,
agony and ecstasy….

So forgive me, my love.
You, who made me dream.
I cannot tread this path,
this razor’s edge.
I shall forsake
the wild days
the endless nights,
for the safety
of my golden cage.