Pannyre of the Golden Heels

On the loud room falls silence like a trance ...

Pannyre with golden heels comes forth to dance.

A thousand-folded veil covers her quite.

With a long trill the silver flutes invite.

She starts, crosses her steps, and with a slow

Movement and sinuous her lithe arms throw

The quivering gauze into a rhythm bizarre,

Which spreads and undulates and floats afar

And like a glittering whirlwind passes by ...

And she is flower and flame and butterfly!

The rapt eyes follow; there is not a stir.

The fury of the dance enkindles her.

She turns and whirls, swifter she whirls and wheels!

The mad flame in the golden torches reels! ...

Suddenly, in the middle hall, she stops;

The veil, but now a flying spiral, drops

Suspended, marble-calm each long fold lies

Clinging to pointed breasts and polished thighs,

And as through flowing water’s silken shine,

Pannyre now flashes-naked and divine.

Albert Samain