Charles Baudelaire - Les Litanies De Satan
O toi, le plus savant et le plus beau des Anges,
Dieu trahi par le sort et prive de louanges,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
O Prince de l'exil, a qui l'on a fait tort
Et qui, vaincu, toujours te redresses plus fort,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi qui sais tout, grand roi des choses souterraines,
Guerisseur familier des angoisses humaines,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi qui, meme aux lepreux, aux parias maudits,
Enseignes par l'amour le gout du Paradis,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
O toi qui de la Mort, ta vieille et forte amante,
Engendras l'Esperance, — une folle charmante!
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi qui fais au proscrit ce regard calme et haut
Qui damne tout un peuple autour d'un echafaud.
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi qui sais en quels coins des terres envieuses
Le Dieu jaloux cacha les pierres precieuses,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi dont l'oeil clair connait les profonds arsenaux
Ou dort enseveli le peuple des metaux,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi dont la large main cache les precipices
Au somnambule errant au bord des edifices,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi qui, magiquement, assouplis les vieux os
De l'ivrogne attarde foule par les chevaux,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi qui, pour consoler l'homme frele qui souffre,
Nous appris a meler le salpetre et le soufre,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi qui poses ta marque, o complice subtil,
Sur le front du Cresus impitoyable et vil,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Toi qui mets dans les yeux et dans le coeur des filles
Le culte de la plaie et l'amour des guenilles,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Baton des exiles, lampe des inventeurs,
Confesseur des pendus et des conspirateurs,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Pere adoptif de ceux qu'en sa noire colere
Du paradis terrestre a chasses Dieu le Pere,
O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Priere
Gloire et louange a toi, Satan, dans les hauteurs
Du Ciel, ou tu regnas, et dans les profondeurs
De l'Enfer, ou, vaincu, tu reves en silence!
Fais que mon ame un jour, sous l'Arbre de Science,
Pres de toi se repose, a l'heure ou sur ton front
Comme un Temple nouveau ses rameaux s'epandront!
Diamanda Galas
το video clip το βάζω μόνο "για την ιστορία".....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95iTFTkxcpg
και η απόδοση στα Αγγλικά:
O you, the wisest and fairest of the Angels,
God betrayed by destiny and deprived of praise,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
O Prince of Exile, you who have been wronged
And who vanquished always rise up again more strong,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who know all, great king of hidden things,
The familiar healer of human sufferings,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who teach through love the taste for Heaven
To the cursed pariah, even to the leper,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who of Death, your mistress old and strong,
Have begotten Hope, — a charming madcap!
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who give the outlaw that calm and haughty look
That damns the whole multitude around his scaffold.
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who know in what nooks of the miserly earth
A jealous God has hidden precious stones,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You whose clear eye sees the deep arsenals
Where the tribe of metals sleeps in its tomb,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You whose broad hand conceals the precipice
From the sleep-walker wandering on the building's ledge,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who soften magically the old bones
Of belated drunkards trampled by the horses,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who to console frail mankind in its sufferings
Taught us to mix sulphur and saltpeter,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who put your mark, O subtle accomplice,
Upon the brow of Croesus, base and pitiless,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who put in the eyes and hearts of prostitutes
The cult of sores and the love of rags and tatters,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
Staff of those in exile, lamp of the inventor,
Confessor of the hanged and of conspirators,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
Adopted father of those whom in black rage
— God the Father drove from the earthly paradise,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
Prayer
Glory and praise to you, O Satan, in the heights
Of Heaven where you reigned and in the depths
Of Hell where vanquished you dream in silence!
Grant that my soul may someday repose near to you
Under the Tree of Knowledge, when, over your brow,
Its branches will spread like a new Temple!
