Twitched strings, the clang of metal, beaten drums, <br />Dull, shrill, continuous, disquieting: <br />And now the stealthy dancer comes <br />Undulantly with cat-like steps that cling; <br /> <br />Smiling between her painted lids a smile, <br />Motionless, unintelligible, she twines <br />Her fingers into mazy lines, <br />The scarves across her fingers twine the while. <br /> <br />One, two, three, four glide forth, and, to and fro, <br />Delicately and imperceptibly, <br />Now swaying gently in a row, <br />Now interthreading slow and rhythmically, <br /> <br />Still, with fixed eyes, monotonously still, <br />Mysteriously, with smiles inanimate, <br />With lingering feet that undulate, <br />With sinuous fingers, spectral hands that thrill <br /> <br />In measure while the gnats of music whirr, <br />The little amber-coloured dancers move, <br />Like painted idols seen to stir <br />By the idolators in a magic grove.<br /><br />Arthur Symons<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/javanese-dancers/
