I Am Afraid of the Sleeping Woman, Poem by Charles Cros

I am afraid of the woman who sleeps
On the sofa, beneath the lamp.
She looks like a serpent that bites,
A serpent all glossy that crawls.

I am not a strong man,
But tonight the blood pounds in my temple.
Love goes well with death;
My dagger, let us try your temper.

Let us stop her lying dream.
No languor, no scent,
Steel, will hinder your work.

O cowardice! the next day
I was breathing in the jasmine scent
Of my triumphant serpent!

Charles Cros

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

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