Margo Reed Kennedy

.

Sigh

Stephane Mallarme

My soul falls to your cheeks, oh calm sister,

Which autumn has splashed with freckles

And, like a white fountain in a melancholy garden

Sighing faithfully toward the azure, climbs

To the errant sky of your angelic eyes.

-– toward the azure, pale and pure with October,

Reflecting in great basins its infinite languor

Which as it expires, on still water amidst the

Russet death-throes of leaves haunting the wind,

Digs a cold furrow for the lingering rays of the sun.