the end of the day

under a pallid light, noisy,
impudent life runs and dances,
twists and turns, for no good reason
so, as soon as voluptuous

night rises from the horizon,
assuaging all, even hunger,
effacing all, even shame,
the poet says to himself: "at last!

my spirit, like my vertebrae,
passionately invokes repose;
with a heart full of gloomy dreams,

i shall lie down flat on my back
and wrap myself in your curtains,
o refreshing shadows!"


- charles baudelaire, translated by william aggeler