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