srry wll b late bout
45 u cool w that
no u no how it
is smtmes am jus v
chnge of plans cn we
do 2moro wll txt u
hey rite now its th
best i cn do all
i cn say is hey
jus go til all yr
eyes c is pixels x
The Tomb of Edgar Poe
As to Himself at last eternity changes him,
The Poet incites with a naked sword
His age aghast at never having heard
That death had triumphed in this strange voice!
They, as the vile hydra once recoiled to hear the angel
Give a purer meaning to the words of the tribe
Proclaimed most loudly the fateful spell imbibed
In the humourless flood of some darkened brew.
From hostile soil and cloud, O grief!
If our idea cannot carve a bas-relief
For the resplendent tomb of Poe to be adorned,
Calm block fallen here below from some obscure disaster,
May this granite at least forever mark a bourne
To the dark flights of Blasphemy scattered in the future.
Stephane Mallarme, trans. Matt Hetherington