Julie
171 Reads
Stéphane Mallarmé, *Petit Air*
I
Any solitude Without a swan or quai Mirrors its disuse In the gaze I abdicate
Far from that pride’s excess Too high to enfold In which many a sky paints itself With the twilight’s gold
But languorously flows beside Like white linen laid aside Such fleeting birds as dive Exultantly at my side
Into the wave made you Your exultation nude.
Stéphane Mallarmé, *Petit Air*
I
Any solitude Without a swan or quai Mirrors its disuse In the gaze I abdicate
Far from that pride’s excess Too high to enfold In which many a sky paints itself With the twilight’s gold
But languorously flows beside Like white linen laid aside Such fleeting birds as dive Exultantly at my side
Into the wave made you Your exultation nude.