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Beauty I am beautiful, oh mortals!, like a dream of stone,
And my breast, upon which men wound themselves,
One after the other, is made to inspire in the poet a love
As eternal and mute as matter.
I reign in the azure like an unknown sphinx;
I unite my heart of snow to the whiteness of swans;
I hate any movement that breaks the line,
And I never cry and I never laugh.
Before my grand poses, which I seem to have borrowed
From the proudest of monuments, poets
Will consume their days in austere studies;
For I have, to hypnotize these docile lovers,
Pure mirrors which make all things more beautiful:
My eyes, my large eyes filled with eternal light!
Original French
(All translations by Cat Nilan © 1999, 2004) |