The Cat (1), Poem by Charles Baudelaire

Come, my fair cat, upon my loving heart;
Keep back the claws of your paw,
And let me plunge into your lovely eyes,
Mingled with metal and with agate.

When my fingers at leisure caress
Your head and your elastic back,
And when my hand grows drunk with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,

I see my woman in spirit. Her gaze,
Like yours, gentle beast,
Deep and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart,

And, from her feet up to her head,
A subtle air, a dangerous perfume
Swim around her brown body.

Charles Baudelaire

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

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