A soul trembling to sit by a hearth so bright,
To exist again, it’s enough if I borrow from
Your lips the breath of my name you murmur all night.
— Stéphane Mallarmé, from “Sonnet: Pour votre chère morte, son ami…” (For your dear departed wife, his friend) 2 November 1877. Selected Poems. Translated by C.F. MacIntyre (
University of California Press; Bilingual ed edition, April 1, 1959)