One

I am fallen from my furor, fatigue disfigures me, but I
glimpse you still, clamorous women, mute stars, I
shall always glimpse you, extravagance.

And you, stars' blood runs in you, their light sustains
you. On flowers, you stand with flowers, on
stones with stones.

Extinct white of memories, splayed, spangled, beaming
with your tears that seep. I am lost.

Paul Eluard