Nothing! this foam and virgin verse
to designate nought but the cup;
such, far off, there plunges a troop
Of many Sirens upside down.
...
To introduce myself to your story
It’s as the frightened hero
If he touched with naked toe
A blade of territory
...
The sun, on the sand, O sleeping wrestler,
Warms a languid bath in the gold of your hair,
Melting the incense on your hostile features,
...
To the sole concern in voyaging
Beyond an India dark and splendid
– Let it be time’s message, this greeting
...
Eyes, lakes of my simple passion to be reborn
Other than as the actor who gestures with his hand
...
My books closed again at Paphos’ name,
It delights me to choose with solitary genius
A ruin, by foam-flecks in thousands blessed
...
The virginal, living and lovely day
Will it fracture for us with a drunken wing-blow
This solid lost lake whose frost’s haunted below
...
La lune s'attristait. Des séraphins en pleurs
Rêvant, l'archet aux doigts, dans le calme des fleurs
Vaporeuses, tiraient de mourantes violes
...
Hyperbole! From my memory
Triumphantly can’t you
Rise today, like sorcery
From an iron-bound book or two:
...
I
Any solitude
Without a swan or quai
Mirrors its disuse
...