Charles Baudelaire

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Vertalingen - Translations

Le Serpent qui danse - Charles Baudelaire

De slang die danst - Vertaling van Lepus

Dansend serpent - Vertaling van Lepus

The Dancing Serpent - Six translations in English

Le Serpent qui danse


Que j'aime voir, chère indolente,  
De ton corps si beau,
Comme une étoffe vacillante,       
Miroiter la peau!                  

Sur ta chevelure profonde
Aux âcres parfums,
Mer odorante et vagabonde
Aux flots bleus et bruns,

Comme un navire qui s'éveille
Au vent du matin,
Mon âme rêveuse appareille
Pour un ciel lointain.

Tes yeux, où rien ne se révèle
De doux ni d'amer,
Sont deux bijoux froids où se mêle
L'or avec le fer.

À te voir marcher en cadence,
Belle d'abandon,
On dirait un serpent qui danse
Au bout d'un bâton.

Sous le fardeau de ta paresse
Ta tête d'enfant
Se balance avec la mollesse
D'un jeune éléphant,

Et ton corps se penche et s'allonge
Comme un fin vaisseau
Qui roule bord sur bord et plonge
Ses vergues dans l'eau.

Comme un flot grossi par la fonte
Des glaciers grondants,
Quand l'eau de ta bouche remonte
Au bord de tes dents,

Je crois boire un vin de Bohême,
Amer et vainqueur,
Un ciel liquide qui parsème
D'étoiles mon coeur!

Charles Baudelaire - Les fleurs du mal
(Spleen et idéal), 1857.


Gainsbourg chante 'Le serpent qui danse'.


En haut

De slang die danst


Hoe bewonder ik, vadsig lief,
jouw prachtige lijf,
dat als een kostbare stof
je huid doet schitteren!

Jouw weelderige haardos
met prikkelende parfums,
geurige en zwervende zee
met blauwe en bruine golven.

Zoals een schip dat vaart maakt
in de ochtendwind,
zeilt mijn dromerige ziel
naar verre einders.

Jouw ogen, die geen zoetheid
of bitterheid onthullen,
zijn twee kille juwelen 
waarin goud zich mengt met ijzer.

De kadans van jouw tred,
ongedwongen schoonheid,
is als een slang die danst
op het uiteinde van een stok.

Onder je lusteloze last
beweegt je meisjesgezicht
heen en weer met de charme
van een jonge olifant,

En je lichaam buigt en strekt zich
als een fraai schip
dat rolt en slingert 
en met zijn ra's duikt in de zee.

Zoals de vloed zwelt door de dooi
van grimmige gletsjers
en de rand van jouw tanden
in speeksel wordt gebaad.

Alsof ik boheemse wijn drink,
bitter en krachtig,
een vloeibare hemel 
die mijn hart bezaait met sterren!

© Vertaald door Lepus (10 april 2010).

En haut

Dansend serpent


Ik bewonder je schoonheid,
lieve ijdeltuit,
die mij getooid in zijde verblijd,
met de schittering van je huid!

Je pronkt en prikkelt mij ermee.
Jouw weelderige haren
zijn een zwervende zee
met blauwe en bruine baren,

waar een schip de zeilen hijst
in de ochtendwinden
en met mijn ziel reist
om het gedroomde land te vinden.

Jouw ogen die ijskoud
zuur en zoet verhelen, 
zoals twee kille juwelen
met spikkels van ijzer en goud.

Omdat jij zo ritmisch bent,
ongedwongen guit,
beweeg je als een dansend serpent
in de ban van een fakirfluit.

Ondanks je landerigheid  
schommelt je jeugdig hoofd, schier
met de speelsheid    
van een jong wijfjesdier.

En je lichaam gaat op en neer 
als een fraai schip dat deint 
en slingert, heen en weer,
en bijna in een golf verdwijnt.

De overstroming van lage landen,
die door de dooi van poolijs ontstaat
en jij die je lippen likt
en speekselblaasjes maakt.
 
Wanneer jij lacht
en wijn drinkt met mij, krachtig en donker,
lijkt mijn hart een vloeibare nacht 
vol sterrengeflonker! 

© Hertaald door Lepus (15 april 2010).

En haut

The 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 Iaves
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.

© Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire
(NY: Pantheon Books, 1952).


En haut

The Dancing Serpent


Indolent darling, how I love
To see the skin
Of your body so beautiful
Shimmer like silk!

Upon your heavy head of hair
With its acrid scents,
Adventurous, odorant sea
With blue and brown waves,

Like a vessel that awakens
To the morning wind,
My dreamy soul sets sail
For a distant sky.

Your eyes where nothing is revealed
Of bitter or sweet,
Are two cold jewels where are mingled
Iron and gold.

To see you walking in cadence
With fine abandon,
One would say a snake which dances
On the end of a staff.

Under the weight of indolence
Your child-like head sways
Gently to and fro like the head
Of a young elephant,

And your body stretches and leans
Like a slender ship
That rolls from side to side and dips
Its yards in the sea.

Like a stream swollen by the thaw
Of rumbling glaciers,
When the water of your mouth rises
To the edge of your teeth,

It seems I drink Bohemian wine,
Bitter and conquering,
A liquid sky that scatters
Stars in my heart!

© William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil
(Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954).


En haut

Dancing Serpent


Indolent love, with what delight
I watch the tawny flesh
Of your sweet body shimmer bright
As a bright silken mesh.

On your thick tresses, love, you wear
Sharp perfumes for a crown,
A venturesome sweet sea, your hair,
With billows blue and brown.

Your eyes never betray by sign
What grief or joy they hold,
They are cold jewels that combine
Strong iron and rare gold.

Even as a vessel that awakes
When morning breezes rise,
So my dream-laden spirit takes
Off for strange distant skies.

Your sinuous cadenced walk enhancing
Your slim proud gait, a frond
Swaying, you are, or a snake dancing
Atop a fakir's wand.

Under a laziness like lead
Your childlike head aslant
Sways soft and gentle as the head
Of a young elephant,

Your body like a slender ship
In tense or bowing motion
Rolls, slow, from side to side to dip
Its yards deep in the ocean.

Ice thawed by currents from the south 
Swell the swift streams beneath,
So when the water of your mouth 
Rises against your teeth,

I seem to drink Bohemian wine 
Victorious and tart,
A liquid sky that strews benign 
Stars in my peaceful heart.

© Jacques LeClercq, Flowers of Evil
(Mt. Vernon, NY: Peter Pauper Press, 1958).


En haut

The Dancing Serpent


How I love to watch, dear indolent creature,
The skin of your so
Beautiful body glisten, like some
Quivering material!

On your deep coiffure
Bitter scented,
Scented, restless sea,
With the blue and brown waves,

Like a ship waking
To the wind of morning,
My dreamy soul prepares
For skies far away.

Your eyes, where nothing is revealed
Of sweet or sour,
Are two cold gems whose gold
Is mixed with iron.

Seeing your harmonious walk,
Abandoned beauty,
One would say a snake was dancing
At the end of a stick.

Under the weight of your sloth
Your infant head
Is balanced with the indolence
Of a young elephant,

And your body bends and stretches
Like a delicate ship
Pitching from side to side and sinking
Its spars in the water.

Like a wave swelled by the melting
Of a groaning glacier,
When your saliva rises
To the edges of your teeth,

I feel I drink some Bohemian wine,
Bitter, victor,
A liquid sky that scatters
Stars in my heart!

© Geoffrey Wagner, Selected Poems of Charles Baudelaire
(NY: Grove Press, 1974).


En haut

The Dancing Serpent


I love the nonchalance, your members,
         your iridescent skin,
when light and shadow interweave,
         a flowing tapestry.

Across those dense, deep locks
         gathering acrid scents
(the roving, redolent sea, blue
         and black waves),

like a cutter at dawn, at the mouth
         of the port, inhaling wind,
my dreaming soul wakes, aspires
         toward a distant sky.

 Burning deep in your splendid irises
         is nothing sad or joyous-
gems hot like ice where ancient
         gold and steel fuse.

When you stride lovely in your nonchalance,
         in your skirts tight as skin,
you seem a serpent writhing, dancing,
         crowning a canebreak.

As, so decadent, your virginal crest
         rocks in Olympian calm,
I imagine a slow lullaby to lull
         a baby elephant to sleep.

Languid, you lean, then cast off
         like a vessel on the brine,
and, tacking, all your spars reflect
         in the placid rippling.

And when, as the river that cascades
         with thawing ice flows,
your saliva suddenly caresses
         the sharp rim of your teeth,

I feel invaded by an all-conquering
         elixir, bitter quaff,
a liquid sky exploding the walls
         of my heart with stars.

© Translated by Justin Vitiello

En haut

The Dancing Serpent


How I love to see, my languid one,
      Over ample and thin
Like silk or oil rest in the sun
      The sheen of your naked skin!

Upon the deep and dark of your hair
      Sweet with pungent perfume—
This sea fragrant and free of care,
      Waves cresting lightly plumed—

As a ship dreamily awakens
      At morning to the wind,
My soul gets set to be taken
      Somewhere it’s never been.

Your eyes, which neither hate nor love
      Are ever found to hold,
Are two cold jewels which are made of
      Iron mixed with gold.

The rhythm of your walk is spent
      Woman in abandon
So much you seem a dancing serpent
      With only curves to stand on.

Under the weight of your idleness,
      Your head is gently bent
Bobbing with the slow listlessness
      Of a young elephant.

And your body leans out stretching
      Like a vessel thin and brave
That rolls from side to side, fetching
      Its yardarms from the waves.

Like a sea-swollen sparkling bay
      Of a grinding glacier’s melt,
When the water of your mouth’s bouquet
      Past your teeth is spilt,

I believe I drink some gypsy wine
      Bitter and triumphant
That sprinkles my heart with stars that shine
      A light of pure intoxicant.

© Translated by Hank Edson (2008).

En haut

Charles Baudelaire
Florilège


Club des Poètes disparus

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