top of page
  • Poems

    Stephan Mallarme. Translated by Roger Fry. 


    New Directions: 1951. First edition. Hardcover in a Lustig jacket. Very good book, good jacket. Shelf wear on the edges of the boards. Jacket has a faded ex-library sticker. 


    "The flesh is sad alas! and all books I have read. 

    To fly far away! I know that the sea-birds are drunk 

    With being amid the unknown foam and the skies! 

    Nothing, not old gardens reflected in eyes

    Will keep back this heart that is plunged in the sea 

    Oh nights! nor the deserted light of the lamp 

    On the empty paper which its whiteness protects 

    Nor even the young woman suckling her child. 

    I will start! Steamer balancing your masts, 

    Heave anchor to reach a nature exotic! 


    Ennui, devastated by my cruel hopes, 

    Still believes in the handkerchief's final adieu! 

    And perhaps the masts, inviting tempests, 

    Are of those which a wind bends over shipwrecks 

    Lost, without masts, without masts or fertile isles... 

    But oh my heart listen to the sailors' song!" 

      bottom of page