Sum up with a glance the virginal absence dispersed
in this solitude and, as one gathers, in memory of a
site, one of those magical, closed water lilies which
spring up suddenly, enveloping nothingness with
their hollow whiteness, formed from untouched
dreams, from a happiness that will never take place,
and from the breath that I am now holding in fear
of an apparition, depart with it: steal silently away,
rowing little by little …

-STÉPHANE MALLARMÉ, Monet’s Garden

Tagged: MALLARMÉ poem, Monet's Garden, poetry, STÉPHANE MALLARMÉ, the white water lily, the white water lily mallarme