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