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The
Fragment
mill ¿ While in front of me,
In the dubious clarity in which its shape was sketched,
Standing on the hillside like a living monster
Whose moon on the grass spread the enormous shade,
An immense mill turned its arms in the wind.
Where does it come from that I then saw, as one sees in a dream
Some frightening body that rises up and lies
down Until it touches the distant firmament of the forehead,
The old mill grows so disproportionately
that its arms, spinning with a sound of sails,
suddenly lost themselves in the middle of the stars,
To fall back, shining with a golden
dust That they had stolen from the robes of the comets?
Then, as if to see their sublime conquests again,
they barely descended, they went up again.
(23-24 October 1897)
Guy de Maupassant, Various Poems
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