| LE GALANT TIREUR (poème en prose) | THE GALLANT SHOT (prose poem) | |
| Charles Baudelaire | trans. Christopher Mulrooney | |
|
Comme la voiture traversait
le bois, il la fit arrêter dans
le voisinage d’un tir, disant
qu'il lui serait agréable de
tirer quelques balles pour tuer
le Temps.
Tuer ce monstre-là, n'est-ce pas
l’occupation la plus ordinaire et
la plus légitime de chacun?
- Et il offrit galamment la main
à sa chère, délicieuse et exécrable
femme, à cette mystérieuse femme
à laquelle il doit tant de plaisirs,
tant de douleurs, et peut-être aussi
une grande partie de son génie.
Plusieurs balles frappèrent loin du but proposé l'une d'elles s’enfonça même dans le plafond; et comme la charmante créature riait follement, se moquant de la maladresse de son époux, celui-ci se tourna brusquement vers elle, et lui dit: "Observez cette poupée, là-bas, à droite, qui porte le nez en l’air et qui a la mine si hautaine. Et bien! cher ange, je me figure que c'est vous." Et il ferma les yeux et il lâcha la détente. La poupée fut nettement décapitée. Alors s'inclinant vers sa chère, sa délicieuse, son exécrable femme, son inévitable et impitoyable Muse, et lui baisant respectueusement la main, il ajouta: "Ah! mon cher ange, combien je vous remercie de mon adresse!" |
As the carriage crossed the wood, he made it stop near the whereabouts of a shooting gallery,
saying it would be agreeable to him to shoot a few rounds to kill Time. Killing that
monster, is that not the most ordinary and legitimate occupation of everyone? And he gallantly
offered his hand to his dear, delicious and execrable wife, to that mysterious wife to whom he
owed so many pleasures, so many pains, and perhaps as well a great part of his genius.
Several rounds hit far from the proposed target; one of them even sank into the ceiling; and as the charming creature laughed madly, making fun of her husband's skillessness, he turned brusquely toward her, and said, "Observe that doll, over there, to the right, with its nose in the air and such a haughty look. Fine! dear angel, I'll imagine it's you." And he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The doll was neatly beheaded. Then leaning toward his dear, his delicious, his execrable wife, his inevitable and pitiless Muse, and respectfully kissing her hand, he added, "Ah! my dear angel, how I thank you for my skill!" |
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Trans. Copyright © Christopher Mulrooney 2003