# Le Serpent qui danse · The Dancing Serpent

Les Fleurs du mal · Charles Baudelaire · Spleen and Ideal

Source: https://1732studios.com/books/baudelaire/le-serpent-qui-danse. Data: https://1732studios.com/books/baudelaire/le-serpent-qui-danse.json.

**1** Que j'aime voir, chère indolente,  
How I love to see, dear indolent one,
> «indolent(e)» as a substantive: «indolent(e)» = 'languid, listless, idle'. Here the adjective stands in for a noun — «chère indolente» = 'dear indolent one' — addressing the languorous woman directly. The opening «Que j'aime voir» is an exclamatory 'how I love to see', setting the whole poem as one long admiring look.

**2** De ton corps si beau,  
Of your body so lovely,

**3** Comme une étoffe vacillante,  
Like a shimmering cloth,

**4** Miroiter la peau!  
The skin glint and waver!
> «miroiter» — to shimmer: «miroiter» (from «miroir», mirror) is 'to shimmer, to glint, to play with reflected light'. It is the infinitive completing «j'aime voir … la peau miroiter» — 'I love to see the skin shimmer'. The verb makes the skin behave like the «étoffe vacillante» (wavering cloth) of the line above: light slides over it as over water.


**5** Sur ta chevelure profonde  
Over your deep head of hair

**6** Aux âcres parfums,  
With its acrid perfumes,
> «âcre» — acrid: «âcre» = 'acrid, pungent, harsh to the senses'. «aux âcres parfums» = 'with acrid perfumes': the «aux» (= «à les») marks a defining trait, 'the one having…'. Baudelaire prefers the biting word to a sweet one — the hair's scent stings, the same heavy, animal perfume that runs through the Jeanne Duval poems.

**7** Mer odorante et vagabonde  
Fragrant and roving sea

**8** Aux flots bleus et bruns,  
With its blue and brown waves,


**9** Comme un navire qui s'éveille  
Like a ship that wakes
> Pronominal «s'éveiller» — to awaken: «s'éveiller» is the pronominal verb 'to wake (oneself), to come awake'. The reflexive «se» makes the ship wake of its own accord — «un navire qui s'éveille / Au vent du matin» = 'a ship that wakes to the morning wind'. The hair-as-sea now carries a vessel that stirs, launching the soul's voyage in the next stanza.

**10** Au vent du matin,  
To the morning wind,

**11** Mon âme rêveuse appareille  
My dreaming soul sets sail
> «appareiller» — to set sail: «appareiller» is the nautical verb 'to weigh anchor, to get under way, to set sail'. «Mon âme rêveuse appareille / Pour un ciel lointain» = 'my dreaming soul sets sail for a far-off sky'. The sea-imagery of the hair becomes literal departure: the body's swaying launches the poet toward an imagined elsewhere.

**12** Pour un ciel lointain.  
For a far-off sky.


**13** Tes yeux, où rien ne se révèle  
Your eyes, where nothing reveals itself
> Pronominal «se révéler» — to reveal itself: «se révéler» is the pronominal 'to reveal itself, to show'. With «rien … ne» it becomes 'nothing reveals itself': «où rien ne se révèle / De doux ni d'amer» = 'where nothing of sweet or bitter shows'. The eyes give nothing away — neither tenderness nor malice — which is why the next line can call them cold jewels of gold and iron.

**14** De doux ni d'amer,  
Of sweet or bitter,

**15** Sont deux bijoux froids où se mêle  
Are two cold jewels where mingle

**16** L'or avec le fer.  
Gold with iron.


**17** À te voir marcher en cadence,  
Seeing you walk in measured step,
> «à» + infinitive — 'on / from doing': «à» + infinitive here means 'on / from / by doing': «à te voir marcher» = 'on seeing you walk, from the sight of you walking'. «en cadence» = 'in rhythm, in measured time'. The construction sets up the simile that follows — the rhythmic walk is what makes one think of a dancing serpent.

**18** Belle d'abandon,  
Lovely with abandon,

**19** On dirait un serpent qui danse  
One would say a serpent that dances
> «on dirait» — 'one would say / it looks like': «on dirait» is the conditional of «dire» used idiomatically: 'one would say, you'd think, it looks like'. «On dirait un serpent qui danse / Au bout d'un bâton» = 'you'd think it a serpent dancing at the end of a stick'. This is the line that names the poem — the swaying walk likened to a charmer's snake rising along its rod.

**20** Au bout d'un bâton.  
At the end of a stick.


**21** Sous le fardeau de ta paresse  
Beneath the burden of your idleness

**22** Ta tête d'enfant  
Your child's head

**23** Se balance avec la mollesse  
Sways with the softness
> Pronominal «se balancer» — to sway: «se balancer» is the pronominal 'to sway, to rock, to swing to and fro'. «Ta tête d'enfant / Se balance avec la mollesse / D'un jeune éléphant» = 'your child's head sways with the softness of a young elephant'. The same rocking motion («balancement») threads through the poem — the cloth, the ship, the snake, and now the heavy, gentle nod of the head.

**24** D'un jeune éléphant,  
Of a young elephant,


**25** Et ton corps se penche et s'allonge  
And your body leans and stretches out
> Paired pronominals «se pencher» / «s'allonger»: Two pronominal verbs in a row: «se pencher» = 'to lean, to tilt', and «s'allonger» = 'to stretch out, to lengthen'. «ton corps se penche et s'allonge / Comme un fin vaisseau» = 'your body leans and stretches like a slender vessel'. The doubled reflexives keep the motion self-driven — the body moves on its own, like a ship rolling «bord sur bord» (side to side).

**26** Comme un fin vaisseau  
Like a slender vessel

**27** Qui roule bord sur bord et plonge  
That rolls side to side and plunges

**28** Ses vergues dans l'eau.  
Its yardarms into the water.
> «la vergue» — the yardarm: «la vergue» is the yard, the horizontal spar slung across a mast to carry a sail. «Qui roule bord sur bord et plonge / Ses vergues dans l'eau» = 'that rolls from side to side and plunges its yardarms into the water'. The ship heels so far over that its rigging dips into the sea — the most extreme of the poem's swaying images.


**29** Comme un flot grossi par la fonte  
Like a flood swollen by the melting
> «la fonte» — the melt; «grondant» — rumbling: «la fonte» is 'melting, thaw' (from «fondre», to melt); «grondant» = 'rumbling, roaring' (present participle of «gronder»). «un flot grossi par la fonte / Des glaciers grondants» = 'a flood swelled by the melt of rumbling glaciers'. The simile prepares the final image: a rising, cold, swelling water — like the moisture welling up to the edge of her teeth.

**30** Des glaciers grondants,  
Of rumbling glaciers,

**31** Quand l'eau de ta bouche remonte  
When the water of your mouth rises

**32** Au bord de tes dents,  
To the edge of your teeth,


**33** Je crois boire un vin de Bohême,  
I seem to drink a wine of Bohemia,

**34** Amer et vainqueur,  
Bitter and conquering,

**35** Un ciel liquide qui parsème  
A liquid sky that strews
> «parsemer» — to strew, to sprinkle: «parsemer (qch de qch)» is 'to strew, scatter, sprinkle something with something'. «Un ciel liquide qui parsème / D'étoiles mon coeur!» = 'a liquid sky that strews my heart with stars'. The closing image makes the kiss a drink of sky: the wine becomes a liquid heaven that sows stars across the heart, ending the poem on dizzy exaltation.

**36** D'étoiles mon coeur!  
My heart with stars!

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Source text: public domain (Charles Baudelaire, d. 1867). English translation: © 2026 1732 Studios, LLC — original draft, pending editorial review.