A Dahlia, Poem by Paul Verlaine

Courtesan with hard breast, with dull and brown eye
Opening slowly like that of an ox,
Your great torso gleams like new marble.

Rich and fleshy flower, around you floats no
Aroma, and the serene beauty of your body
Unrolls, matte, its impeccable accords.

You do not even sense the flesh, that taste which at least
Exhale those women who go withering the hay,
And you throne, Idol insensible to incense.

– Thus the Dahlia, king clothed in splendor,
Raises without pride its odorless head,
Irritating in the midst of the vexing jasmines!

Paul Verlaine

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

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