Studio Scene, Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Sandalwood CasketPeriod 19th century

To Édouard Manet.

Knowing that She is frivolous, and to catch with ease
Her poses, you talked of theatres, of joyous
Evenings, of yourself, a sailor, stopping near the bars,
Of the blue and heavy sea attacking the cliff.

Around her neck, the paper of a bouquet, this strawberry,
The velvet surrounding the supple nonchalances,
These curls on her forehead, black hieroglyphs,
These eyes whose ardour your stories calmed,

These features, this opulent abandon and these tones
(You were, I believe, at the Mirlitons club)
Passed onto the canvas in a few brushstrokes.

And the Parisienne, regretfully, from the sofa
Rising, said: “It’s charming!” then stifled
This sigh: “He hasn’t made me ferocious enough!”

Charles Cros

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