Interior

A long-eyed slave laden with soft chains

Changes the water for my flowers, plunges into

mirrors’ trains,

On the mysterious bed her pure fingers lavishes;

She puts a woman in these walls’ midst

Who, within my daydream roaming decent,

Moves amongst my glances without disrupting

their absence,

As across the sunlight moves a glass,

And of pure reason spares the apparatus.

Paul Valéry