Quand le ciel bas et lourd pèse comme un couvercle
Sur l'esprit gémissant en proie aux longs ennuis,
Et que de l'horizon embrassant tout le cercle
Il nous [fait]1 un jour noir plus triste que les nuits ;

Quand la terre est changée en un cachot humide,
Où l'Espérance, comme une chauve-souris,
S'en va battant les murs de son aile timide,
Et se cognant la tête à des plafonds pourris ;

Quand la pluie étalant ses immenses traînées
D'une vaste prison imite les barreaux,
Et qu'un peuple muet [d'horribles]2 araignées
Vient tendre ses filets au fond de nos cerveaux,

Des cloches tout-à-coup sautent avec furie
Et lancent vers le ciel un affreux hurlement,
Ainsi que des esprits errants et sans patrie
Qui se mettent à geindre opiniâtrément.

-- Et [d'anciens]3 corbillards, sans tambours ni musique,
Défilent lentement dans mon âme ; [et,]4 l'Espoir
[Pleurant comme un vaincu, l'Angoisse]5 despotique
Sur mon crâne incliné plante son drapeau noir.

About the headline (FAQ)

View original text (without footnotes)

Confirmed with Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du mal, Paris: Poulet-Malassis et de Broise, 1857, in Spleen et Idéal, pages 144-145. Also confirmed with Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du mal, Paris: Poulet-Malassis et de Broise, 1861, in Spleen et Idéal, pages 176-177. Also confirmed with Charles Baudelaire, Œuvres complètes de Charles Baudelaire, vol. I : Les Fleurs du mal, Paris: Michel Lévy frères, 1868, in Spleen et Idéal, pages 202-203. Punctuation and formatting follows 1857 edition. Note: this was number 62 in the 1857 edition of Les Fleurs du mal but number 78 or 80 in subsequent editions.

¹ 1861 and 1868 editions: "verse"
² 1861 and 1868 editions: "d'infâmes"
³ 1861 and 1868 editions: "de longs"
⁴ omitted in 1861 and 1868 editions
⁵ 1861 edition: "Vaincu, pleure, et l'Angoisse atroce,"

Text Authorship:

• by Charles Baudelaire (1821 - 1867), "Spleen", appears in Les Fleurs du mal, in 1. Spleen et Idéal, no. 62, Paris, Poulet-Malassis et de Broise, first published 1857 [author's text checked 4 times against a primary source]

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

• by Gilles Auger (b. 1957), "Spleen 4", 2009 [ medium voice (male voice) and piano ], from Spleen, no. 4 [sung text not yet checked]
• by Armand Bournonville (d. 1957), "Spleen" [ high voice and piano ], Nancy, Éd. Dupont-Metzner [sung text not yet checked]
• by Vincent Minazzoli (b. 1960), "Spleen", 1989 [ high voice and piano ], from Cinq Poèmes de Baudelaire, no. 1 [sung text not yet checked]
• by Nguyen Phuc Buu Phoi (b. 1945), "Spleen", 2013, published 2013 [ soprano and piano ], from Les Fleurs du Mal, six mélodies pour soprano et piano, no. 2 [sung text not yet checked]
• by Aimée Strohl (1865 - 1941), as Rita Strohl, "Spleen", 1894 [ soprano and piano ], from Six Poésies de Baudelaire mises en musique, no. 2, Paris : Toledo & Ce [sung text not yet checked]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

• CZE Czech (Čeština) (Jaroslav Goll) , "Spleen (2)"
• CZE Czech (Čeština) (Jaroslav Haasz) , "Spleen (3)"
• ENG English (Peter Low) , copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
• POR Portuguese (Português) (Delfim Guimarães) , "Spleen"

Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Poom Andrew Pipatjarasgit [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2014-01-18
Line count: 20
Word count: 158

When the low heavy sky presses down like a lid
on the groaning spirit attacked by long spells of boredom,
and when from the horizon that rings the whole circle
it makes for us a dark day sadder than a night,

when the earth is changed into a moist dungeon
in which Hope, fluttering like a bat, 
keeps beating the walls with its timid wings
and bumping its head against rotten ceilings,

when the rain spreading out its extensive trails
imitates the bars of a vast prison,
and when a silent tribe of horrible spiders
comes and spreads its nets in the depths of our brains,

then suddenly bells start jumping furiously
and throw a frightful shrieking up at the sky
like wandering homeless spirits
that begin to moan stubbornly.

... And ancient hearses, with no drums or music,
slowly process through my soul: and Hope
weeps defeated, and Despotic Anguish
plants on my bowed skull its black flag.