Helen

Azure! it’s me... I come from death’s grottos

To hear the breaking wave in sonorous degrees,

And once more see sunups full of galleys

Resuscitate from shadow on gold oars.

My solitary hands call the monarchs

Whose beards of salt amused my fingers pure;

I wept. They sang me all their triumphs obscure

And the gulfs buried at the poops of their barques,

I hear the deep conch and military trumpet

Give a rhythm to the oarblades’ flight;

The clear song of the rowers enchains the tumult,

And the Gods, on the heroic prow exalted

In their antique smile the waves insult

Extend to me their arms indulgent and sculpted.

Paul Valéry