Remember, my soul, the thing we saw
  that lovely summer day?
On a pile of stones where the path turned off,

Once, indulgent lady—only once
  you lay your lustrous arm
on mine (against the darkness of my soul

Two warriors have engaged in combat: swords
Hash and clash together; blood is spilled.
Such passages of arms are the result

Gentle reader, being—as you are—
a cautious man of uncorrupted tastes,
lay aside this disobliging work,

After my friend and I left the tobacco shop, he carefully sorted his loose change; slipped some small gold coins in his left jacket pocket; into the right went the silver pieces; in his left pants pocket, a handful of centimes; and in the right, a silver two-franc piece he inspected closely. I wondered about this odd distribution of coins.

I am like the king of a rainy kingdom,
rich but weak, young yet very old, 

You must get drunk. That’s it: your sole imperative. To immunize yourself from the backbreaking, body-bending burdens of time, you must get drunk and stay that way.

My darling was naked, or nearly, for knowing my heart
she had left on her jewels, the bangles and chains
whose jingling music gave her the conquering air

Behave, my Sorrow! let’s have no more scenes.
Evening’s what you wanted—Evening’s here:
a gradual darkness overtakes the town,

It is a terrible terrain
   no mortal eye has seen
whose image still seduces me