SEA-WIND
by: Stéphane Mallarmé (1842-1898)
HE flesh is sad, alas! and all the books are read.
Flight, only flight! I feel that birds are wild to tread
The floor of unknown foam, and to attain the skies!
Nought, neither ancient gardens mirrored in the eyes,
Shall hold this heart that bathes in waters its delight,
O nights! nor yet my waking lamp, whose lonely light
Shadows the vacant paper, whiteness profits best,
Nor the young wife who rocks her baby on her breast.
I will depart! O steamer, swaying rope and spar,
Lift anchor for exotic lands that lie afar!
A weariness, outworn by cruel hopes, still clings
To the last farewell handkerchief's last beckonings!
And are not these, the masts inviting storms, not these
That an awakening wind bends over wrecking seas,
Lost, not a sail, a sail, a flowering isle, ere long?
But, O my heart, hear thou, hear thou, the sailors' song!
I am not familiar with this poet but will certainly look for more of his work.
ReplyDeleteMALLARMÉ is an idealist, symbolist Icon of the Poetry.
ReplyDeleteHis Poetry is full of symbols and spirituality, rich and pure!
I believe that Mallarme works well with the Internet... he was a poor fella who held forth at influential "salons" in Paris-- the great creatives of the time came together and spoke in terms that were understood by great and common alike.
ReplyDeleteIt is kind of sad when you are not understood by the masses
ReplyDelete;)
And indeed, it takes a Master to reduce the voltage, so everybody can get the message.
Thanks for the visit Cynthia,