Dance can reveal all that is mysterious in music, and it has the additional merit of being human and palpable. Dance is poetry with arms and legs; it is matter — gracious, terrible, animated — embellished by movements.
[La danse peut révéler tout ce que la musique recèle de mystérieux, et elle a de plus le mérite d’être humaine et palpable. La danse, c’est la poésie avec des bras et des jambes, c’est la matière, gracieuse et terrible, animée, embellie par le mouvement.]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
“La Fanfarlo,” Bulletin de la Société des Gens de Lettres (1847-01) [tr. MacKenzie (2008)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:The dance can reveal everything mysterious that is hidden in music, and it has the additional merit of being human and palpable. Dancing is poetry with arms and legs. It is matter, graceful and terrible, animated and embellished by movement.
[tr. Boyd (1986)]Dance can reveal all the mystery that music hides, and it has the further merit of being human and palpable. Dance is poetry with arms and legs, it’s matter, gracious and terrible, animated and embellished by movement.
[tr. Lloyd (1991)]
Quotations by:
Baudelaire, Charles
Beauty always has an element of strangeness. I do not mean a deliberate cold form of strangeness, for in that case it would be a monstrous thing that had jumped the rails of life. But I do mean that it always contains a certain degree of strangeness, of simple, unintended, unconscious strangeness, and that this form of strangeness is what gives it the right to be called beauty.
[Le Beau est toujours bizarre. Je ne veux pas dire qu’il soit volontairement, froidement bizarre, car dans ce cas il serait un monstre sorti des rails de la vie. Je dis qu’il contient toujours un peu de bizarrerie, de bizarrerie naive, non voulue, inconsciente, et que c’est cette bizarrerie qui le fait être particulièrement le Beau.]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
“The Universal Exhibition of 1855 [Exposition Universelle de 1855],” sec. 1 (1855) [tr. Charvet (1972)]
(Source)
Frequently paraphrased as "Strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty." See also Bacon.
Collected in Curiosités Esthétiques, ch. 4 (1868). (Source (French)). Alternate translations:The Beautiful is always strange. I do not mean that it is coldly, deliberately strange, for in that case it would be a monstrosity that had jumped the rails of life. I mean that it always contains a touch of strangeness, of simple, unpremeditated and unconscious strangeness, and that it is in this touch of strangeness that gives it its particular quality as Beauty.
[tr. Mayne (1965)]Beauty is always bizarre. I do not mean to say that it is deliberately, coldly bizarre, for in that case it would be a monster that has escaped from the confines of existence. I mean that it always contains a certain amount of strangeness, naïve strangeness, unforced and even unconscious, and that it is this strangeness that stamps it as Beautiful.
[tr. Gregory (1961)]
Everything beautiful and noble is the result of reason and calculation. Crime, of which the human animal has learned the taste in his mother’s womb, is natural by origin. Virtue, on the other hand, is artificial, supernatural, since at all times and in all places gods and prophets have been needed to teach it to animalized humanity, man being powerless to discover it by himself. Evil happens without effort, naturally, fatally; Good is always the product of some art.
[Tout ce qui est beau et noble est le résultat de la raison et du calcul. Le crime, dont l’animal humain a puisé le goût dans le ventre de sa mère, est originellement naturel. La vertu, au contraire, est artificielle, surnaturelle, puisqu’il a fallu, dans tous les temps et chez toutes les nations, des dieux et des prophètes pour l’enseigner à l’humanité animalisée, et que l’homme, seul, eût été impuissant à la découvrir. Le mal se fait sans effort, naturellement, par fatalité ; le bien est toujours le produit d’un art.]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
“Le Peintre de la Vie Moderne [The Painter of Modern Life],” sec. 11 (1863) [tr. Mayne (1964)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translation:Everything beautiful and noble is the result of reason and calculation. Crime, for which the human creature has acquired a taste in its mother’s womb, is natural in origin. Virtue, on the contrary, is artificial, unnatural since, at all times and among all nations, gods and prophets were necessary to teach virtue to animalistic humanity, which humanity alone was unable to discover. Evil occurs without effort, naturally, through fatality; good is always the product of artifice.
[tr. Kline (2020)]
But genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recovered at will — a childhood now equipped for self-expression with manhood’s capacities and a power of analysis which enables it to order the mass of raw material which it has involuntarily accumulated.
[Le génie n’est que l’enfance retrouvée à volonté, l’enfance douée maintenant, pour s’exprimer, d’organes virils et de l’esprit analytique qui lui permet d’ordonner la somme de matériaux involontairement amassée.]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
“Le Peintre de la Vie Moderne [The Painter of Modern Life],” sec. 3 (1863) [tr. Mayne (1964)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:But genius is simply childhood recovered at will, a childhood now equipped for self-expression, with mature faculties and an analytic spirit which permit him to set in order the mass of raw material he has involuntarily accumulated.
[tr. Kline (2020)]Genius is only childhood recovered at will, childhood now gifted to express itself with the faculties of manhood and with the analytic mind that allows him to give order to the heap of unwittingly hoarded material.
[Source]But genius is no more than childhood recaptured at will, childhood equipped now with man’s physical means to express itself, and with the analytical mind that enables it to bring order into the sum of experience, involuntarily amassed.
[Source]
The habit of doing one’s duty drives out fear.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Intimate Journals, 116 (1887) [tr. Isherwood (1957)]
One must work, if not out of inclination, at least out of despair. All things considered, work is far less boring than entertaining oneself.
[Il faut travailler, sinon par goût, au moins par désespoir, puisque, tout bien vérifié, travailler est moins ennuyeux que s’amuser.]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Journaux Intimes [Intimate Journals], “Mon cœur mis à nu [My Heart Laid Bare],” § 40 (1864–1867; pub. 1887) [tr. Sieburth (2022)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:One must work, if not from inclination at least from despair, since, as I have fully proved, to work is less wearisome than to amuse oneself.
[tr. Isherwood (1930)]It is necessary to work, if not from inclination, at least from despair. As it turns out, work is less boring than amusing oneself.
[Source, e.g.]One must work, if not from inclination, at least out of despair -- since it proves, on close examination, that work is less boring than amusing oneself.
[Source, e.g.]
The least vile of all merchants is he who says: “Let us be virtuous, since, thus, we shall gain much more money than the fools who are dishonest.” For the merchant, even honesty is a financial speculation.
[Le moins infâme de tous les commerçants, c’est celui qui dit: Soyons vertueux pour gagner beaucoup plus d’argent que les sots qui sont vicieux. — Pour le commerçant, l’honnêteté elle-même est une spéculation de lucre.]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Journaux Intimes [Intimate Journals], “Mon cœur mis à nu [My Heart Laid Bare],” § 47 (1864–1867; pub. 1887) [tr. Isherwood (1930)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translation:The least despicable of merchants is the one who says: Let us be virtuous so that we can make far more money than those vice-ridden fools. -- For the merchant, even honesty offers a money-making opportunity.
[tr. Sieburth (2022)]
Being unable to abolish Love, the Church has desired at least to disinfect it, and has invented marriage.
[Ne pouvant supprimer l’amour, l’Église a voulu au moins le désinfecter, et elle a fait le mariage.]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Journaux Intimes [Intimate Journals], “Mon cœur mis à nu [My Heart Laid Bare],” § 52 (1864–1867; pub. 1887) [tr. Isherwood (1930)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Unable to eliminate love, the Church at least wanted to disinfect it -- and hence created marriage.
[tr. Sieburth (2022)]Unable to do away with love, the Church found a way to decontaminate it by creating marriage.
[Source]Unable to suppress love, the Church wanted at least to disinfect it, and it created marriage.
[Source]
It’s through universal Misunderstanding that everybody comes to agreement.
If, by some misfortune, everybody understood each other, one could never come to agree.
[C’est par le malentendu universel que tout le monde s’accorde.
Car si, par malheur, on se comprenait, on ne pourrait jamais s’accorder.]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Journaux Intimes [Intimate Journals], “Mon cœur mis à nu [My Heart Laid Bare],” § 99 (1864–1867; pub. 1887) [tr. Sieburth (2022)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:It is by universal misunderstanding that all agree.
For if, by ill luck, people understood each other, they would never agree.
[tr. Isherwood (1930)]It is by universal misunderstanding that we agree with each other.
If, by some misfortune, we understood each other, we would never agree.
[Source]
The only way to forget time is to make use of it.
[On ne peut oublier le temps qu’en s’en servant.]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Journaux Intimes [Intimate Journals], “Mon cœur mis à nu [My Heart Laid Bare],” § 111 (1864–1867; pub. 1887) [tr. Sieburth (2022)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:One can only forget Time by making use of it.
[tr. Isherwood (1930)]One can only forget about time by making use of it.
[Common, e.g.]
There is in the word, in the logos, something sacred which forbids us to gamble with it. To handle a language skillfully is to practice a kind of evocative sorcery.
[Il y a dans le mot, dans le verbe, quelque chose de sacré qui nous défend d’en faire un jeu de hasard. Manier savamment une langue, c’est pratiquer une espèce de sorcellerie évocatoire.]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
L’Art Romantique, ch. 28 “Théophile Gautier,” sec. 3 (1868) [tr. Gilman (1958)]
(Source)
Originally published in L'Artiste (1859-03-13). It appears in Vol. 3, ch. 8 of the 1885 Œuvres complètes de Charles Baudelaire.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:There exists in the word, in the verb, something sacred which prohibits us from viewing it as a mere game of chance. To manipulate language with wisdom is to practice a kind of evocative sorcery.
[tr. Jakobson (1981)]There is in a word, in a verb, something sacred which forbids us from using it recklessly. To handle a language cunningly is to practice a kind of evocative sorcery.
[E.g.]
And why carry out one’s projects, since the project is sufficient pleasure in itself?
[Et à quoi bon exécuter des projets, puisque le projet est en lui-même une jouissance suffisante?]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Le Spleen de Paris (Petits Poèmes en Prose), No. 24 “Projects [Les Projets],” final words (1869) [tr. Varèse (1970)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:And what is the good of carrying out a project, when the project itself gives me pleasure enough?
[tr. Hamburger (1946)]And what good is it to carry out plans, since planning itself is a sufficient delight?
[tr. Kaplan (1989)]And what good would it do to execute such plans, since planning is in itself sufficient enjoyment?
[tr. Waldrop (2009)]What good is it to accomplish projects, when the project itself is enjoyment enough?
[Various]
There is no sweeter pleasure than to surprise a man by giving him more than he expected.
[Il n’est pas de plaisir plus doux que de surprendre un homme en lui donnant plus qu’il n’espère.]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Le Spleen de Paris (Petits Poèmes en Prose), No. 28 “The Counterfeit Money [La Fausse Monnaie]” (1869) [tr. Shipley (1919)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:There is no sweeter pleasure than to surprise a man by giving him more than he expects.
[tr. Varèse (1970)]There is no sweeter pleasure than surprising a man by giving him more than he hopes for.
[tr. Kaplan (1989)]
My dear brothers, when you hear the progress of enlightenment extolled, never forget that the devil’s cleverest trick is to persuade you that he does not exist!
[Mes chers frères, n’oubliez jamais, quand vous entendrez vanter le progrès des lumières, que la plus belle des ruses du diable est de vous persuader qu’il n’existe pas!]
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Le Spleen de Paris (Petits Poèmes en Prose), No. 29 “The Generous Gambler [Le Joueur généreux]” (1869) [tr. Kaplan (1989)]
(Source)
A warning by a Parisian preacher, as reported by the Devil himself. Used in movie The Usual Suspects (1995) as "The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:My dear brethren, never forget, when you hear the progress of wisdom vaunted, that the cleverest ruse of the Devil is to persuade you he does not exist!
[tr. Shipley (<1919) "The Generous Player"]My dear brethren, never forget, when you hear boasts about the progress of enlightenment, that the finest ruse of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist!
[tr. Hamburger (1946) "The Generous Gamester"]My dear brothers, never forget when you hear people boast of our progress in enlightenment, that one of the devil's best ruses is to persuade you that he does not exist!
[tr. Varèse (1970)]The Devil's subtlest ruse is to convince us that he doesn't exist.
[tr. McGowan (1993)]Dear brethren, never forget that the finest of all the devil's tricks is to persuade you that he doesn't exist.
[tr. Lerner (2003)]My dear brethren, do not ever forget, when you hear the progress of lights praised, that the loveliest trick of the Devil is to persuade you that he does not exist!
[Source]
This life is a hospital in which every patient is haunted by the desire to change beds. This one wants to suffer in front of the stove, and that one believes he will recover next to the window.
[Cette vie est un hôpital où chaque malade est possédé du désir de changer de lit. Celui-ci voudrait souffrir en face du poêle, et celui-là croit qu’il guérirait à côté de la fenêtre.]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Le Spleen de Paris (Petits Poèmes en Prose), No. 48 “Any Where Out of the world” (1869) [tr. Kaplan (1989)]
(Source)
The title of the original is in English, a line from Thomas Hood, "The Bridge of Sighs." It is often subtitled with the French translation, "N’importe où hors du monde," which are the final lines.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Life is a hospital, in which every patient is possessed by the desire of changing his bed. One would prefer to suffer near the fire, and another is certain that he would get well if he were by the window.
[tr. Symons (<1919)]This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window.
[tr. Hamburger (1946)]Life is a hospital where every patient is obsessed by the desire of changing beds. One would like to suffer opposite the stove, another is sure he would get well beside the window.
[tr. Varèse (1970)]This life is a hospital where each patient is possessed with the desire of changing his bed. One would like to suffer in front of the stove, and another believes he would get well beside the windows.
[tr. Fowlie (1992)]This life is a hospital, where each patient is possessed by the desire to change beds. That one prefers to suffer nearer the stove and this one believes he would get well next to the window.
[tr. Waldrop (2009)]
O misery! misery! Time eats our lives,
And that dark Enemy who gnaws our hearts
Grows by the blood he sucks from us, and thrives.[Ô douleur ! ô douleur ! Le Temps mange la vie,
Et l’obscur Ennemi qui nous ronge le cœur
Du sang que nous perdons croît et se fortifie!]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Les Fleurs du Mal [The Flowers of Evil], # 10 “L’Ennemi [The Enemy],” st. 4 (1857) [tr. Squire (1909)]
(Source)
Also in 1861, 1868 eds. (Source (French)). Alternate translations:Oh misery! -- Time devours our lives,
And the enemy black, which consumeth our hearts
On the blood of our bodies, increases and thrives!
[tr. Scott (1909)]o grief! o grief! time eats away our lives,
and the dark Enemy gnawing at our hearts
sucks from our blood the strength whereon he thrives!
[tr. Shanks (1931)]Oh, anguish, anguish! Time eats up all things alive;
And that unseen, dark Enemy, upon the spilled
Bright blood we could not spare, battens, and is fulfilled.
[tr. Millay (1936)]Time swallows up our life, O ruthless rigour!
And the dark foe that nibbles our heart's root,
Grows on our blood the stronger and the bigger!
[tr. Campbell (1952)]Alas! Alas! Time eats away our lives,
And the hidden Enemy who gnaws at our hearts
Grows by drawing strength from the blood we lose!
[tr. Aggeler (1954)]Time and nature sluice away our lives.
A virus eats the heart out of our sides,
digs in and multiplies on our lost blood.
[tr. Lowell (1963), "The Ruined Garden"]О grief! О grief! Time eats away life,
And the dark Enemy who gnaws the heart
Grows and thrives on the blood we lose.
[tr. Fowlie (1964)]Time consumes existence pain by pain,
and the hidden enemy that gnaws our heart
feeds on the blood we lose, and flourishes!
[tr. Howard (1982)]I cry! I cry! Life feeds the seasons' maw
And that dark Enemy who gnaws our hearts
Battens on blood that drips into his jaws!
[tr. McGowan (1993)]Time eats at life: no wonder we despair.
Our enemy feeds on the blood we lose.
He gnaws our heart, and look how strong he grows.
[tr. Lerner (1999)]O pain! pain! Time devours life and the dark Enemy that gnaws our heart grows, and grows strong, from the blood we let.
[tr. Waldrop (2006)]
If I had lived in that wild early world
When each day saw new monstrosities,
I would have fawned upon a giantess, curled
Voluptuous as a cat around her knees.[Du temps que la Nature en sa verve puissante
Concevait chaque jour des enfants monstrueux,
J’eusse aimé vivre auprès d’une jeune géante,
Comme aux pieds d’une reine un chat voluptueux.]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Les Fleurs du Mal [The Flowers of Evil], # 19 “La Géante [The Giantess],” st. 1 (1857) [tr. Lerner (1999)]
(Source)
Also in in the 1861 ed. (# 19) and 1868 (# 20). (Source (French)). Alternate translations:When Nature in her lavish lustiness
Bred day by day new, strange monstrosities,
Would I had lived with a young giantess
Like a warm cat who at a queen's feet lies.
[tr. Squire (1909)]I should have loved -- erewhile when Heaven conceived
Each day, some child abnormal and obscene,
Beside a maiden giantess to have lived,
Like a luxurious cat at the feet of a queen
[tr. Scott (1909)]From the time when Nature in her furious fancy
Conceived each day monstrosities obscene,
I had loved to live near a young Giantess of Necromancy,
Like a voluptuous cat before the knees of a Queen.
[tr. Symons (1913)]In times of old when Nature in her glad excess
Brought forth such living marvels as no more are seen,
I should have loved to dwell with a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat about the feet of a queen.
[tr. Dillon (1936)]When Nature once in lustful hot undress
Conceived gargantuan offspring, then would I
Have loved to live near a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat at a queen's feet.
[tr. Shapiro (1942)]Of old when Nature, in her verve defiant,
Conceived each day some birth of monstrous mien,
I would have lived near some young female giant
Like a voluptuous cat beside a queen,
[tr. Campbell (1952)]At the time when Nature with a lusty spirit
Was conceiving monstrous children each day,
I should have liked to live near a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.
[tr. Aggeler (1954)]In times when Nature, lusty to excess,
Bred monstrous children, would that I had been
Living beside a youthful giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat beside a queen
[tr. LeClercq (1958)]In those times when Nature in powerful zest
Conceived each day monstrous children,
I would have loved to live near a young giantess,
A voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.
[tr. Wagner (1974)]Had I been there when primal Nature teemed
with monstrous progeny, I would have tried
to live beside some mammoth girl, the way
a cat will sprawl at the feet of a queen
[tr. Howard (1982)]In olden days when Nature in her lusty exuberance daily conceived monstrous offspring, I would gladly have lived beside some youthful giantess, like a voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.
[tr. Scarfe (1986)]In times when madcap Nature in her verve
conceived each day a hatch of monstrous spawn,
I might have lived near some young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat before a queen.
[tr. McGowan (1993)]In the days when Nature, in her playful power,
conceived every day some new, monstrous children,
I should have liked to live with a young giantess,
like a voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.
[tr. Clark (1995)]Back when Nature in her zestful sway daily brought forth child monsters, I would like to have lived with a young giantess, like a voluptuous cat at the queen's feet.
[tr. Waldrop (2006)]In those days when Nature's overwhelming Lust
Engendered infant-monsters day by day
I'd love to have lived with a young giantess.
Like a lazy cat at the foot of my queen I'd lay.
[tr. Underhill]
There, all is order and loveliness,
Luxury, calm and voluptuousness.[Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Les Fleurs du Mal [The Flowers of Evil], # 49 “L’Invitation au Voyage [Invitation to the Voyage],” ll. 13-14 (1857 ed) [tr. Scott (1909)]
(Source)
Also in the 1861 ed. (#53) and the 1868 ed. (#54). (Source (French)). Alternate translations:There all is beauty and symmetry,
Pleasure and calm and luxury.
[tr. Squire (1909)]Where everything is beautiful, rich, quiet, honest; where order is the likeness and the mirror of luxury; where life is fat, and sweet to breathe.
[tr. Symons (1913), prose poem version]There, restraint and order bless
Luxury and voluptuousness.
[tr. Millay (1936)]There'll be nothing but beauty, wealth, pleasure,
With all things in order and measure.
[tr. Campbell (1952)]There all is order and beauty,
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.
[tr. Aggeler (1954)]All is order there, and elegance,
pleasure, peace, and opulence.
[tr. Howard (1982)]Everything there is order and beauty, luxury, calm, voluptuousness.
[tr. Scarfe (1986)]There, all is order and leisure,
Luxury, beauty, and pleasure.
[tr. McGowan (1993)]There, there is nothing but order and beauty, luxury, calm and sensual pleasure.
[tr. Clark (1995)]It is a land of perfect peace,
Beauty and joy that never cease.
[tr. Lerner (1999)]There, there's only order, beauty: abundant, calm, voluptuous.
[tr. Waldrop (2006)]
One night the wine was singing in the bottles:
“Mankind, dear waif, I send to you, in spite
Of prisoning glass and rosy wax that throttles,
A song that’s full of brotherhood and light.”[Un soir, l’âme du vin chantait dans les bouteilles:
«Homme, vers toi je pousse, ô cher déshérité,
Sous ma prison de verre et mes cires vermeilles,
Un chant plein de lumière et de fraternité!»]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Les Fleurs du Mal [The Flowers of Evil], # 93 “L’Âme du vin [The Soul of Wine],” st. 1 (1857) [tr. Campbell (1952)]
(Source)
Also in the 1861 ed. (#104) and the 1868 ed. (#128). (Source (French)). Alternate translations:One eve in the bottle sang the soul of wine:
"Man, unto thee, dear disinherited,
I sing a song of love and light divine --
Prisoned in glass beneath my seals of red."
[tr. Sturm (1905)]One night, the soul of wine was singing in the flask:
"O man, dear disinherited! to you I sing
This song full of light and of brotherhood
From my prison of glass with its scarlet wax seals."
[tr. Aggeler (1954)][The Soul of Wine]
sang by night in its bottles: "Dear mankind,
dear and disinherited! Break the seal
of scarlet wax that darkens my glass jail,
and I shall bring you light and brotherhood!"
[tr. Howard (1982)]One evening the wine's soul sang in the bottles, "Man, dear disinherited Man, from my glass prison with its scarlet seals of wax I send you a song which is full of light and brotherhood."
[tr. Scarfe (1986)]One night, from bottles, sang the soul of wine:
"O misfit man, I send you for your good
Out of the glass and wax where I'm confined,
A melody of light and brotherhood!"
[tr. McGowan (1993)]
With waving opalescence in her gown,
Even when she walks along, you think she’s dancing.
Like those long snakes which charmers, while entrancing,
Wave with their wands, in cadence, up and down.[Avec ses vêtements ondoyants et nacrés,
Même quand elle marche on croirait qu’elle danse,
Comme ces longs serpents que les jongleurs sacrés
Au bout de leurs bâtons agitent en cadence.]Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Les Fleurs du Mal [The Flowers of Evil], Part 1, #28 “Avec ses vêtements ondoyants et nacrés,” st. 1 (1857) [tr. Campbell (1952)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Robed in a silken robe that shines and shakes,
She seems to dance whenever she treads the sod,
Like the long serpent that a fakir makes
Dance to the waving cadence of a rod.
[tr. Sturm (1905)]With pearly robes that wave within the wind,
Even when she walks, she seems to dance,
Like swaying serpents round those wands entwined
Which fakirs wave in rhythmic elegance.
[tr. Scott (1909)]with all her undulant pearly draperies,
she moves in measures lovelier than a dance,
as in the fakirs' Indian sorceries
tall cobras 'neath a moving rod advance
[tr. Shanks (1931)]With her pearly, undulating dresses,
Even when she's walking, she seems to be dancing
Like those long snakes which the holy fakirs
Set swaying in cadence on the end of their staffs.
[tr. Aggeler (1954)]With her dresses undulating, pearly,
Even walking one would think her dancing,
Like those long serpents which holy charmers
Move in harmony at the tips of their batons.
[tr. Wagner (1974)]Even when she walks she seems to dance!
Her garments writhe and glisten like long snakes
obedient to the rhythm of the wands
by which a fakir wakens them to grace.
[tr. Howard (1982)]With her undulating, iridescent clothes, even when she walks you would think she is dancing, like those long snakes that sacred jugglers shake rhythmically on the ends of their sticks.
[tr. Clark (1995), #17]She doesn’t walk; she rather dances through salons
Within her buoyant gowns of glittering, silver nacre,
Curling like the snake of a turbaned Hindu fakir,
Unrolled from in between his undulant batons.
[tr. Eriksson]Even when she walks one would believe that she dances.
[Common rendering]
Dear indolent, I love to see,
in your body bright,
How like shimmering silk the skin
Reflects the light!
[…]
When you walk in rhythm, lovely
With abandonment,
You seem to be swayed by a wand,
A dancing serpent.Que j’aime voir, chère indolente,
De ton corps si beau,
Comme une étoffe vacillante,
Miroiter la peau!
[…]
À te voir marcher en cadence,
Belle d’abandon,
On dirait un serpent qui danse
Au bout d’un bâton.Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) French poet, essayist, art critic
Les Fleurs du Mal [The Flowers of Evil], Part 1, #29 “Le Serpent qui danse [The Dancing Serpent],” st. 1, 5 (1857) [tr. Gibbs (1947)]
(Source)
These phrases use very similar imagery to the previous poem in the collection. (Source (French)). Alternate translations:I love to watch, while you are lazing,
Your skin. It iridesces
Like silk or satin, smoothly-glazing
The light that it caresses.
[...]
To see you rhythmically advancing
Seems to my fancy fond
As if it were a serpent dancing
Waved by the charmer’s wand.
[tr. Campbell (1952), #28 "The Snake That Dances"]Indolent darling, how I love
To see the skin
Of your body so beautiful
Shimmer like silk!
[...]
To see you walking in cadence
With fine abandon,
One would say a snake which dances
On the end of a staff.
[tr. Aggeler (1954) "The Dancing Serpent"]Indolent love, with what delight
I watch the tawny flesh
Of your sweet body shimmer bright
As a bright silken mesh.
[...]
Your sinuous cadenced walk enhancing
Your slim proud gait, a frond
Swaying, you are, or a snake dancing
Atop a fakir's wand.
[tr. LeClercq (1958) "Dancing Serpent"]How I love to watch, dear indolent creature,
The skin of your so
Beautiful body glisten, like some
Quivering material!
[...]
Seeing your harmonious walk,
Abandoned beauty,
One would say a snake was dancing
At the end of a stick.
[tr. Wagner (1974) "The Dancing Serpent"]Dear indolent! I love to see
with every move you make
the iridescence of your skin
gleam like watered silk.
[...]
And when you walk to cadences
of sinuous nonchalance,
it looks as if a serpent danced
in rhythm to a wand.
[tr. Howard (1982) "As If A Serpent Danced"]How I adore, dear indolent,
Your lovely body, when
Like silken cloth it shimmers --
Your sleek and glimmering skin!
[...]
Viewing the rhythm of your walk,
Beautifully dissolute,
One seems to see a serpent dance
Before a wand and flute.
[tr. McGowan (1993), "The Dancing Serpent"]How love to look, dear indolent one, at your beautiful body and see, like a shot silk, the changing gleam of your skin! [...]
Seeing your rhythmic walk, beautiful in its abandon, one thinks of a serpent dancing at the head of a stick.
[tr. Clark (1995), #18 "The Dancing Serpent"]How I love, dear lazybones, to see how the skin of your beautiful body sparkles like cloth billowing [...]
To see you walk in cadence, fair unconstrained, brings to mind a serpent dancing at the prodding of a stick.
[tr. Waldrop (2006), "Dancing Serpent"]