Stéphane Mallarmé

Stéphane Mallarmé Poems

The flesh is sad, Alas! and I have read all the books.
Let’s go! Far off. Let’s go! I sense
that the birds, intoxicated, fly
deep into unknown spume and sky!
...

These nymphs, I would perpetuate them.
So bright
Their crimson flesh that hovers there, light
...

All at once, as if in play,
Mademoiselle, she who moots
a wish to hear how it sounds today
the wood of my several flutes
...

Her pure nails sprung up exalting their onyx,
Anxiety, this midnight, bearing light, sustains,
In twilight many dreams burnt up by the Phoenix
...

5.

Towards your brow my soul oh gentle sister,
where there dreams
An autumn strewn with ruddy streaks
And towards the wandering sky of your
...

All summarised, the soul,
When slowly we breathe it out
In several rings of smoke
By other rings wiped out
...

Child sprung from
the two of us — showing
us our ideal, the way
— ours! father
...

Dear dreamer, help me to take off
Into my pathless, pure delight,
By always holding in your glove
My wing, a thin pretence of flight.
...

I don’t come to conquer your flesh tonight, O beast
In whom are the sins of the race, nor to stir
In your foul tresses a mournful tempest
...

Such as at last eternity transforms into Himself,
The Poet rouses with two-edged naked sword,
His century terrified at having ignored
...

Nothing! this foam and virgin verse
to designate nought but the cup;
such, far off, there plunges a troop
Of many Sirens upside down.
...

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 introduce myself to your story
It’s as the frightened hero
If he touched with naked toe
A blade of territory
...

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
...

19.

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
...

Stéphane Mallarmé Biography

Stéphane Mallarmé worked as a lycée teacher at Tournon, Avignon and then Paris. His salon in the Rue de Rome became a rendezvous for young writers during the last fifteen years of his life. He was a friend of Degas. His verse often experiments with dislocated punctuation and grammar.)

The Best Poem Of Stéphane Mallarmé

Sea Breeze

The flesh is sad, Alas! and I have read all the books.
Let’s go! Far off. Let’s go! I sense
that the birds, intoxicated, fly
deep into unknown spume and sky!
Nothing – not even old gardens mirrored by eyes –
can restrain this heart that drenches itself in the sea,
O nights, or the abandoned light of my lamp,
on the void of paper, that whiteness defends,
no, not even the young woman feeding her child.
I will go! Steamer, straining at your ropes
lift your anchor towards an exotic rawness!
A Boredom, made desolate by cruel hope
still believes in the last goodbye of handkerchiefs!
And perhaps the masts, inviting lightning,
are those the gale bends over shipwrecks,
lost, without masts, without masts, no fertile islands...
But, oh my heart, listen to the sailors’ chant!

Stéphane Mallarmé Comments

Stéphane Mallarmé Quotes

Alas, the flesh is weary, and I've read all the books.

Every soul is a melody which needs renewing.

Everything in the world exists to end up in a book.

The poetic act consists of suddenly seeing that an idea splits up into a number of equal motifs and of grouping them; they rhyme.

The pure work implies the disappearance of the poet as speaker, who hands over to the words.

Stéphane Mallarmé Popularity

Stéphane Mallarmé Popularity

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