Mallarmé

Salut / Stéphane Mallarmé

 

Nimic, doar aceasta spuma

Pur vers care nu-i decit semn al cupei ce-a fost –

– asa de departe e trupa de sirene-necate ce se tot indeparteaza, venind.

Navigam, risipiti prieteni. 

Eu – deja la pupa, voi – la prora fastuoasa ce desparte torentul de fulgere si ierni.

O blinda betie ma-ndeamna sa ridic iar cupa acestui salut – si nu ma tem de vertij :

singuratate, recif, stea – luati-le voi, cei pe care va poarta pinza albita a aceleiasi griji

©notesandcounternotes

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