Wing which paradise chose
If I stop or I go on in
The touch of your pure delight
Mrs. Madier de Montjau

Formerly brushing against with agitation
Your unicorn’s or fairy’s back
Ancient wing, give me
The horizon in a burst

Simple, soft, in the meadows of mixing
What any bush has of wool
When the white herd has passed
Seems Madeleine’s soul

Always that scepter where you are
Ball, theatre, yesterday, tomorrow,
Give the signal for the party
With a wave of your hand

Around marble the lily grows
Breeze only begins by keeping silent
Proud and white, its glance right
Nelly, similar to this flowerbed

Over there from some vast dawn
So that its flight returns toward
Your small hand which is unaware
I marked this wing of a verse

Like the moon asks it
A white cloud for cold
Cream spreads the reverie
Of Miss Herold

This little wing enough to ban
Worry, the crowd, or tobacco
Brings against my smile
Some verse kept silent by Rodenbach

In this mad paper and her
Morose literature
Forgives if it caressed
Your virgin forehead of crossing-off

With the breeze from this wing
Mrs. Dinah Seignobos
Can, very mildly, and does she think
To erase all our vain scratches?

Pretty fan that I put in motion
Of my stay with a blonde fairy
With this wing open I bring
Some eternal and laughing puff

Wing of paper which refolds
Beat quite if you learn
Quite recently at the storm and the joy
Of her piano Missia

04/16/2008