i can’t believe the New Criterion translator changed all the nouns (I am x, I am y, I am z) to adjectival/descriptive phrases — it erases all the playing Nerval pusposefully does with the wholeness of the self — the otherness of the self — the self that might try to destroy the self — all the disjunctive identities he is flipping through, shifting between.

this effect also happens to his love (unrequited), who is hidden throughout the poem in references (the “star,” the sorceress enchantress of course, and rosalie — a pun — “a la rose s’allie”).

wow, i’m clearly over-reacting to the fact that New Criterion is publishing no-good translations like this. time for bed! to dream of lobsters on blue ribbons in the streets of paris! good night, d!