Читать книгу Poems of Baudelaire (Les Fleurs du Mal) - Charles Baudelaire - Страница 31
ОглавлениеThe Snake that Dances
| I love to watch, while you are lazing, Your skin. It iridesces Like silk or satin, smoothly-glazing The light that it caresses. Under your tresses dark and deep Where acrid perfumes drown, A fragrant sea whose breakers sweep In mazes blue or brown, My soul, a ship, to the attraction Of breezes that bedizen Its swelling canvas, clears for action And seeks a far horizon. Your eyes where nothing can be seen Either of sweet or bitter But gold and iron mix their sheen, Seem frosty gems that glitter. To see you rhythmically advancing Seems to my fancy fond As if it were a serpent dancing Waved by the charmer’s wand. Under the languorous moods that weigh it, Your childish head bows down: Like a young elephant’s you sway it With motions soft as down. Your body leans upon the hips Like a fine ship that laves Its hull from side to side, and dips Its yards into the waves. When, as by glaciers ground, the spate Swells hissing from beneath, The water of your mouth, elate, Rises between your teeth— It seems some old Bohemian vintage Triumphant, fierce, and tart, A liquid heaven that showers a mintage Of stars across my heart. |
