The Yale Anthology of Twentieth-Century French Poetry

GEORGES BATAILLE

when I cry
You who are and will be
when I am no more
X the deaf
the giant mallet
breaking my head of night.
—rosemary lloyd

I Dreamed of Touching

I dreamed of touching the world’s grief
on the disenchanted edge of a strange fen
I dreamed of heavy water where I would find again
the paths that had drifted from your mouth so deep

I felt in my hands a disgusting beast
fled from the hideous forest’s black stain
and I saw that this was your mortal bane
that I laughingly call the world’s grief

a wild light, the thunder’s roar
a laugh liberating your long nudity
an immense splendor at last I saw

and I saw your grief as a charity
glowing in the night in the long bright form
and the graveyard cry of your infinity.
—rosemary lloyd