Poemquotes 17 - "XIII. Gypsies Traveling" by Charles Baudelaire

my translation

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XIII. Bohémiens en voyage - Les fleurs du mal
[XIII. Gypsies Traveling] [The Flowers of Evil]

The prophetic, ardent-pupiled tribe
Set forth yesterday, carrying their little ones
Upon their backs, or delivering to their proud appetites
The ever ready treasure from their dangling mammaries.

On foot the men, beneath their gleaming weapons, go
Alongside the covered wagons in which their kin are huddled,
Moving over the heavens eyes overburdened
By the gloomy regret of vanished chimeras.

At the bottom of his sandy recess, the cricket,
Watching them pass, redoubles his song;
Cybele, who loves them, increases her verdures,

Makes the rock into a spring and the desert bloom
Before these travelers, for whom is opened
The familiar empire of future darknesses.

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