French · Spleen and Ideal

Semper eadem

Always the Same

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1
"Where does it come from, you would ask, this strange sadness,
D'fromde · prepositionpart of d'où (from where)
oùwhereoù · pronoun, interrogativepart of d'où, modifies vient
vousto youvous · pronoun, pluralindirect object of vient
vientcomesvenir · verb, present, indicative, third-person, singularmain verb of the sentence
disiezyou would saydire · verb, imperfect, indicative, second-person, pluralparenthetical clause (you would say)
-vousyouvous · pronoun, pluralsubject of disiez
cettethisce · determiner, feminine, singulardeterminer of tristesse
tristessesadnesstristesse · noun, feminine, singularsubject of vient
étrangestrangeétrange · adjective, feminine, singularmodifies tristesse
GrammarInversion in «d'où vous vient cette tristesse» Read in plain order this is «d'où cette tristesse vous vient» = 'from where does this sadness come to you'. The verb «venir» is placed before its subject «cette tristesse» — a poetic inversion — and «vous» is the dative ('to you'), so the sadness 'comes to you'. «disiez-vous» ('you would say / you kept asking') is itself inverted as a quotative aside, the standard form for reporting speech mid-sentence.
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rising like the sea over the black and naked rock?"
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— Once our heart has gathered in its vintage,
Word«la vendange» — the grape harvest «la vendange» is the grape-harvest, the gathering of the vintage; «faire sa vendange» = 'to bring in one's harvest'. «Quand notre coeur a fait une fois sa vendange» = 'once the heart has done its vintage', i.e. has lived through its season and reaped what it will ever reap. «une fois» here means 'once, once and for all'. The metaphor turns a life of feeling into a single harvest after which only the bitterness of line 4 remains.
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to live is an evil. It is a secret known to all,
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a very plain grief, and not mysterious,
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and, like your joy, glaring plain to everyone.
Word«éclatant» — dazzling, blazing out «éclatant» (from «éclater», 'to burst, to break out') means 'dazzling, blazing, conspicuous' — light or sound that bursts upon everyone. «éclatante pour tous» = 'blazingly obvious to all'. The word answers «votre joie» ('your joy'): the woman's happiness is as loud and visible as the speaker's sorrow is — both are out in the open, «pour tous», for everyone to see.
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Stop searching, then, O lovely inquisitive one!
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and, though your voice be sweet, be silent!
GrammarSubjunctive after «bien que» «bien que» ('although, though') always governs the subjunctive. «soit» is the present subjunctive of «être» — «bien que votre voix soit douce» = 'although your voice is (may be) sweet'. The mood marks the sweetness as conceded, set aside: granted as true only to be overruled by the command «taisez-vous!» ('be silent!'), the pronominal «se taire» given in the imperative.
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Be silent, you who know nothing! soul forever enraptured!
Word«ravi» — carried away, enraptured «ravi» is the past participle of «ravir», literally 'to seize, to carry off' (as in 'ravish'), and so 'delighted, enraptured'. «âme toujours ravie» = 'soul forever enraptured / forever carried away'. The praise is half a warning: the woman's bliss depends on her not knowing — «ignorante» — what the speaker knows, and «toujours» ('always') quietly echoes the Latin title, «Semper eadem».
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Mouth of childlike laughter! More even than Life,
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Death often holds us by subtle bonds.
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Let, let my heart get drunk on a lie,
GrammarPronominal «s'enivrer» under «laisser» «laisser» + infinitive = 'to let / allow (something) to', so «laissez mon coeur s'enivrer» = 'let my heart get drunk'. «s'enivrer» is pronominal — 'to make oneself drunk, to grow intoxicated' (from «ivre», 'drunk') — and takes «de» for the thing one is drunk on: «s'enivrer d'un mensonge» = 'to get drunk on a lie'. The doubled imperative «Laissez, laissez» turns the command into a plea, and the lie is the woman's own untroubled joy.
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to plunge into your lovely eyes as into a lovely dream,
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and slumber a long while in the shadow of your lashes!
Word«les cils» — the eyelashes «les cils» are the eyelashes (the eyelids are «les paupières»). «à l'ombre de vos cils» = 'in the shadow of your lashes'. The sonnet's three closing infinitives — «s'enivrer», «plonger», «sommeiller» — all hang on «laissez» of line 1, a single drawn-out wish: to drink the lie, sink into the eyes as into a dream, and sleep long under the shade those lashes throw. The chosen lie is preferred to the death-truth of the tercet above.

The particulars

The text: Les Fleurs du mal, Charles Baudelaire. Spleen and Ideal.
Words: Every word of the text, by letter.
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