<sub>...







"These nymphs that I would perpetuate :
                     so clear

And light, their carnation, that it floats in the air
Heavy with leafy slumbers.
                     Did I love a dream ?

My doubt, night's ancient hoard, pursues its theme
In branching labyrinths, which being still
The veritable woods themselves, alas, reveal
My triumph as the ideal fault of roses.
Consider... "



(Henry Weinfeld, after The Afternoon of a Faun by Stéphane Mallarmé)</sub>




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