[I am now translating poems by Charles Baudelaire. Next, I intend to try my hand at translating the poems of Pablo Neruda. I also plan to write critiques for the poems I've translated. -- Original French text below.]
Quite commonly, for sport, the members of a crew will snatch the albatross, great birds of the oceans, those fellow travelers who idly tail the sloops that sail the seven seas, above acrid trenches.
The moment they are laid on the weather deck planks those azure world monarchs, ungainly and much shamed, let drag despondently their white majestic wings, like unattended oars, hobbling at their flanks.
This winged vacationer, lumbering plasticine, he who was so gorgeous, how ugly, how absurd! A sailor baits his beak with a lit corncob pipe, another limps to mock the cripple that could fly!
The poet is akin to this prince of the mist who would haunt storms at sea to sneer at admirals; banished to solid ground amid the public’s taunts for donning giant wings, which have caused his great fall.
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Souvent, pour s’amuser, les hommes d’equipage Prennent des albatros, vastes oiseaux des mers. Qui suivend, indolents compagnons de voyage, Le navire glissant sur les gouffres amers.
A peine les ont-ils deposes sur les planches Que ces rois de l’azur, maladroits et honteux, Laissent piteusement leurs grandes ailes blanches Comme des avirons trainer a cote d’eux.
Ce voyageur aile, comme il est gauche et veule! Lui, naguere si beau, qu’il est comique et laid! L’un agace son bec avec un brule-gueule, L’autre mime, en boitant, l’infirme qui volait!
Le poete est semblable au prince des nuees Qui hante la tempete et se rit de l’archer; Exile sur le sol au milieu des huees, Ses ailes de geants l’empechent de marcher.
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