Sonnet XCIV If I die, survive me with such a pure force you make the pallor and the coldness rage; flash your indelible eyes from south to south, from sun to sun, till your mouth sings like a guitar. I don't want your laugh or your footsteps to waver; I don't want my legacy of happiness to die; don't call to my breast: I’m not there. Live in my absence as in a house. Absence is such a large house that you'll walk through the walls, hang pictures in sheer air. Absence is such a transparent house that even being dead I will see you there, and if you suffer, Love, I'll die a second time. trans. Stephen Tapscott -- p2: defenestrate --

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