Charles Baudelaire's Receuillement

Here is a poem I read today (in French, followed by English translation) and the observations that followed:

Receuillement

Sois sage, ô ma Douleur, et tiens-toi plus tranquille.

Tu réclamais le Soir; il descend; le voici:

Une atmosphère obscure enveloppe la ville,

Aux uns portant la paix, aux autres le souci.

Pendant que des mortels la multitude vile,

Sous le fouet du Plaisir, ce bourreau sans merci,

Va cueillir des remords dans la fête servile,

Ma Douleur, donne-moi la main; viens par ici,

Loin d'eux. Vois se pencher les défuntes Années,

Sur les balcons du ciel, en robes surannées;

Surgir du fond des eaux le Regret souriant;

Le soleil moribond s'endormir sous une arche,

Et, comme un long linceul traînant à l'Orient,

Entends, ma chère, entends la douce Nuit qui marche.

     **********************************************

Meditation

Be wise, O my Sorrow, be calmer.

You implored the evening; it falls; here it is:

A dusky air surrounds the town,

Bringing peace to some, worry to others.

Whilst the worthless crowd of humanity,

Lashed by Pleasure, that merciless torturer,

Go to gather remorse in slavish rejoicing,

Give me your hand, my Sorrow; come with me,

Far from them. See the dead years leaning,

In worn-out clothing, on the balconies of the skies;

See how Regret, grinning, rises from the deep waters;

The dying sun goes to sleep in an archway,

And, like a long shroud dragging from the East,

Hear, O my dear one, hear the soft night coming.

        — Geoffrey Wagner, Selected Poems of Charles Baudelaire (NY: Grove Press, 1974)

This poem is well-known, and I have read it dozens of times. Tonight again, it first evoked the usual feeling of "sweet sorrow." But the melancholy did not last, and was soon displaced by a much cheerier analysis.

In this poem, Baudelaire clearly embraces sorrow, almost as we might pick up a small child, encouraging her to be still because the ice cream truck is around the corner. But in doing so, the poet also gives sorrow a separate identity, effectively distancing himself from it. The pain is his (see first line), but it is other.  "Receuillement" is an invitation to the company Baudelaire chooses to keep, but one he could just as easily dis-invite. The same welcome could be offered to hope, desire, longing, creativity, courage, discipline, happy memories, etc. 

That lesson is good to remember. Pain, whatever the reason, is inherently sad, but it is not me, nor me, pain. I can simply leave it behind.

And so it is with Haiti. Everyone agrees that poverty stinks—literally. It coarsens and it kills. But we also need to remember that it is not part of our essence or our DNA. It is separate from us. We can choose to simply walk away, go elsewhere, adopt other habits or approaches. We can instead invite joy, prosperity, abundance, goodness, beauty.   

Both the poem and that reminder represented God's smile today. Thank you, Holy Spirit.