trans. Robert Fernandez and Blake Bronson-Bartlett1

 

 

Then nothing, bright spray, hymnal holiday,

To show us but this skin;

Dead ahead, impacted sirens

Roll perversely: a log of bodies

 

We set our course, O rangy

Friends, I already at aft,

You at the glinting fore which breaks

The sea’s membrane of flashes and shivers

 

A honeyed drunkenness sends me

Fearless into foundering

Forward with poise to toast

 

Solitude, reef, star

These which gathered, drew resonant

And plumped the naked canvas of our craft

 

 

Apologies for not crediting Robert Fernandez and Blake Bronson-Bartlett with the translations of Mallarmé’s poetry in Lana Turner no. 6.

 
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