# L'Horloge · The Clock

Les Fleurs du mal · Charles Baudelaire · Spleen and Ideal

Source: https://1732studios.com/books/baudelaire/l-horloge. Data: https://1732studios.com/books/baudelaire/l-horloge.json.

**1** Horloge! dieu sinistre, effrayant, impassible,  
Clock! sinister god, terrifying, impassive,
> Vocative apostrophe: The poem opens by addressing the clock directly, in the vocative — «Horloge!» with no article. Throughout, the speaker talks to the clock as a person, even a deity («dieu sinistre»), which lets the rest of the poem report what it says to us. «impassible» = 'impassive, unmoved' — the god of time feels nothing for its victims.

**2** Dont le doigt nous menace et nous dit: «Souviens-toi!  
whose finger threatens us and says to us: "Remember!
> «dont» = whose / of which: «dont» is the relative pronoun replacing «de + which/whom» — here 'whose finger' (the clock's hand, «doigt» also being a 'finger'). It links back to «Horloge» in the line above. The clock-hand becomes a threatening finger, the first of the poem's many puns turning timekeeping into menace.
> se souvenir (reflexive imperative): «se souvenir» = 'to remember' is pronominal: it always carries its reflexive pronoun. In the imperative, that pronoun comes after the verb and is stressed — «souviens-toi!» ('remember!'). This command, the «memento» of the title, tolls through the whole poem in three languages.

**3** Les vibrantes Douleurs dans ton coeur plein d'effroi  
The quivering Sorrows in your heart full of dread

**4** Se planteront bientôt comme dans une cible;  
will soon plant themselves as in a target;
> Reflexive future + delayed verb: «se planter» = 'to plant itself, lodge, stick fast'; «se planteront» is its future. The subject «Les vibrantes Douleurs» ('the quivering Sorrows') was named in line 3, but its verb is held back to here, so the sorrows hang suspended over two lines before they strike — like darts «comme dans une cible», 'as in a target'.


**5** Le Plaisir vaporeux fuira vers l'horizon  
Hazy Pleasure will flee toward the horizon

**6** Ainsi qu'une sylphide au fond de la coulisse;  
just as a sylph into the back of the wings;

**7** Chaque instant te dévore un morceau du délice  
Each instant devours from you a morsel of the delight
> Ethical dative «te»: Here «te» is not the direct object but a dative of interest: each instant devours 'a morsel' («un morceau») — and devours it from you, to your cost. French often slips in this «te / me» to show whom the action affects. The instant eats your share of joy, bite by bite.

**8** À chaque homme accordé pour toute sa saison.  
granted to each man for his whole season.


**9** Trois mille six cents fois par heure, la Seconde  
Three thousand six hundred times an hour, the Second
> 3,600 seconds in an hour: 3,600 is the number of seconds in an hour (60 × 60). The «Seconde» (capitalized, personified) whispers its warning once for every tick. The exact arithmetic makes time relentlessly literal — a fixed, countable rate of loss.

**10** Chuchote: Souviens-toi! — Rapide, avec sa voix  
whispers: Remember! — Swift, with its voice

**11** D'insecte, Maintenant dit: Je suis Autrefois,  
of an insect, Now says: I am Long-Ago,
> «Maintenant» / «Autrefois» as nouns: Baudelaire capitalizes the adverbs «Maintenant» ('now') and «Autrefois» ('formerly, in the old days') and makes them speaking figures. 'Now' announces 'I am Long-Ago' — the present has already turned into the past even as it speaks. The thin insect-voice belongs to the Second buzzing past.

**12** Et j'ai pompé ta vie avec ma trompe immonde!  
And I have pumped out your life with my filthy proboscis!
> trompe (proboscis) + pomper: «la trompe» is an insect's sucking proboscis (also an elephant's trunk); «pomper» = 'to pump, suck up'. The Second is now a mosquito-like insect that has «pompé ta vie» — drained your life — with its «immonde» ('foul, filthy') tube. The buzzing insect-voice of the previous lines becomes a bloodsucker.


**13** Remember! Souviens-toi! prodigue! Esto memor!  
Remember! Souviens-toi! spendthrift! Esto memor!

**14** (Mon gosier de métal parle toutes les langues.)  
(My metal throat speaks every language.)
> gosier (throat): «le gosier» = 'the throat, gullet'. The clock's «gosier de métal» is its striking mechanism, and the parenthesis explains the previous line: a metal throat that 'speaks every language' justifies the multilingual cry. «toutes les langues» = 'all languages' — «langue» being both 'tongue' and 'language'.

**15** Les minutes, mortel folâtre, sont des gangues  
The minutes, frolicking mortal, are gangue
> gangue (ore matrix): «la gangue» is the worthless rock matrix that encases a metal or gem in the mine — the ore you must crush to free the gold. «folâtre» = 'playful, frolicsome'; the mortal is addressed as a heedless trifler. Each minute is a lump of ore: dross around a grain of gold, as the next line spells out.

**16** Qu'il ne faut pas lâcher sans en extraire l'or!  
that one must not let go without extracting the gold!
> «il faut» (impersonal must) + «en»: «il faut» = 'one must, it is necessary'; «il ne faut pas» = 'one must not'. The relative «que» points back to «gangues» (the minutes-as-ore), the things one must not release. «en» = 'from it / of it' (de + the ore): «sans en extraire l'or» = 'without extracting the gold from it'. Do not drop a single minute unmined.


**17** Souviens-toi que le Temps est un joueur avide  
Remember that Time is a greedy gambler

**18** Qui gagne sans tricher, à tout coup! c'est la loi.  
who wins without cheating, every throw! it is the law.
> à tout coup (every time): «à tout coup» = 'every time, at every turn, without fail' — at the gaming table, every roll or hand. Time wins «sans tricher» ('without cheating') and still never loses: the odds themselves are rigged in its favor, so honesty is no comfort. «c'est la loi» = 'it is the law', flat and final.

**19** Le jour décroît; la nuit augmente; Souviens-toi!  
The day wanes; the night grows; Remember!

**20** Le gouffre a toujours soif; la clepsydre se vide.  
The abyss is always thirsty; the water-clock drains.
> clepsydra (water-clock): A «clepsydre» is an ancient water-clock that measures time by water flowing out of a vessel. «se vider» = 'to empty itself' (pronominal), so «la clepsydre se vide» = 'the water-clock empties'. As the «gouffre» (abyss) keeps its thirst, the clock bleeds away its water — every measure of time both counts the hour and consumes a life.


**21** Tantôt sonnera l'heure où le divin Hasard,  
Soon will strike the hour when divine Chance,
> Inversion + «tantôt» (presently): «tantôt» here means 'presently, before long, soon'. After the fronted adverb the verb is inverted before its subject: «sonnera l'heure» = 'the hour will strike'. That hour is then defined by a chain of «où» clauses ('the hour when…') running across the final stanza, each naming a figure that will speak at the end.

**22** Où l'auguste Vertu, ton épouse encor vierge,  
when august Virtue, your still-virgin wife,
> Virtue, the wife never touched: «auguste» = 'majestic, venerable'; «encor» is the poetic spelling of «encore» ('still'). Virtue is the speaker's wedded wife who remains «vierge» ('virgin') — married to him in name yet never embraced, because he has never actually lived by her. The bitterness: he had every chance at the good and never took it.

**23** Où le Repentir même (oh! la dernière auberge!),  
when Repentance itself (oh! the last inn!),
> Repentance as the last inn: «une auberge» is an inn, a roadside lodging for the night. Even «le Repentir» ('Repentance'), the final shelter open to the traveler at the end of the road, will by then refuse him — «la dernière auberge», the last stop, found shut. «même» here = 'itself, even' (Repentance itself).

**24** Où tout te dira Meurs, vieux lâche! il est trop tard!»  
when all will tell you: Die, old coward! it is too late!"
> «mourir» imperative + the closing curse: «meurs!» is the imperative of «mourir» ('to die') — 'die!'. «un lâche» = 'a coward'. This is the sentence everything pronounces at the final hour: «il est trop tard» = 'it is too late'. The closing guillemet («»») shuts the long speech the clock began back in stanza one — the whole poem has been the clock talking.

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Source text: public domain (Charles Baudelaire, d. 1867). English translation: © 2026 1732 Studios, LLC — original draft, pending editorial review.