Sonnet X

Seas purse on clay.  Truant daddy-o, lure on Nyx.   
Lang wa’s – so many we suitor on.  Lam pa! Dough for
mine, rare, for vesperal brew.  Lay. Parlay.  For nix?
Coo now we’re cooler – passed the sinner.  He, and four

surly cray-dance whores, all undid null tics –   
a beau leer, bibber load: ‘in a neat way, son.’  Aw
curly met and leapt who say deplore.  Awe sticks –
affects so sool.  Objet?  Don lei neon son, or

mae posh: a quasi ignored fur.  Can’t ignore
agonies: ‘so lorn, pottered the décor,
daily – core ruined.’  O fuck-country!  In knicks

all day, fontal, knew only me – wah! Uncor-    
ked… dawn loo bleed.  Fur may par the car dry.  Suffix?
The saint elation.  See to the septa ore.



Homophonic translation of Sonnet X by Stéphane Mallarmé

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