The way her silky garments undulate
It seems she’s dancing as she walks along,
Like serpents that the sacred charmers make
To move in rhythms of their waving wands.
Like desert sands and skies she is as well,
As unconcerned with human misery,
Like the long networks of the ocean’s swells
Unfolding with insensibility.
Her polished eyes are made of charming stones,
And in her essence, where the natures mix
Of holy angel and the ancient sphinx,
Where all is lit with gold, steel, diamonds,
A useless star, it shines eternally,
The sterile woman’s frigid majesty.
by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE (1821-1867)
Public Domain Poetry
unbolt me 
Makes me think of swanky motor cars
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Oh, I totally see that, now that you mention it!! 😆
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I’ve a weird way of seeing 🧐
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An agreeable way! 😀
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What a perfect translation, much better than the Russian one.
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I didn’t know there was a Russian translation of this poem! 😮
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