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La chambre bleu, 1901

There is a figure in the rug as of a mother
Tousling the hair of a child. Strewn flowers
Adorn a wall hanging, flowers at the bedside
Crown a cylinder of blue tin. The morning

Rises through its weave of slow surfaces, for
It is not yet light. From the window, a pale
Draught wafts over a striped blanket. Fabric
As only family can imply : sheets, curtains.

Night draws slowly off now. An old shirt
Hangs in the garde-robe, smelling faintly
Of her father : it has faded to a nullness,
Out of slow facility into a poised disuse.

She stands naked in a shallow basin, runs
The water over her body, disfigured gently
As she inclines. She is doubled by the form
Of a girl in a flared skirt, sketched sparsely

On a faded affiche : it adorns the wall as she
Adorns the saddened air. The skirt runs its
Silent carousel about. From a near room rise
The sounds of her parents in their grey sleep.