Today is the birthday of Edgar Allan Poe, a poet worshipped by Parisian poets and not so revered amongst American ones. Here is a tribute to Poe from the poet Stephan Mallarme, one of my favorite poets, a French Symbolist poet. This translation is by Daisy Aldan from the book "To Purify the Words of the Tribe."
The Tomb of Edgar Allan Poe
Just as eternity transforms him at last unto Himself,
The Poet rouses with a naked sword
His age terrified at not having discerned
That death was triumphant in that strange voice!
They, like a Hydra's vile spasm on hearing the angel
Once give a purer meaning to the words of the tribe
Loudly proclaimed the sorcery drunk
In the dishonored flow of some foul brew.
From hostile soil and cloud, O lament!
If our thought fails to carve a bas-relief
With which to adorn the shining tomb of Poe.
Mute block fallen here below from some dim disaster
Let this granite at least forever be a barrier
To the foul flights of Blasphemy scattered in the future.
The Tomb of Edgar Allan Poe
Just as eternity transforms him at last unto Himself,
The Poet rouses with a naked sword
His age terrified at not having discerned
That death was triumphant in that strange voice!
They, like a Hydra's vile spasm on hearing the angel
Once give a purer meaning to the words of the tribe
Loudly proclaimed the sorcery drunk
In the dishonored flow of some foul brew.
From hostile soil and cloud, O lament!
If our thought fails to carve a bas-relief
With which to adorn the shining tomb of Poe.
Mute block fallen here below from some dim disaster
Let this granite at least forever be a barrier
To the foul flights of Blasphemy scattered in the future.