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blank verse

The Winter Tremble blank verse by Stéphane Mallarmé (1842-1898),  my translation   Always slow, among flowers and deities, the clock striking thirteen. Who previously owned this Saxon clock? Picture them bringing it from Saxony by… blank verse

Time

Dark night has choked daylight. Day is dead. It won’t come back to senses any more. You killed the time again. You must be mad To waste the only treasure you afford. Time is for… Time