Poems List
Shadow
Here you are beside me again
Memories of my companions killed in the war
The olive-branch of time
Memories that make only a single memory
As a hundred skins make only a single coat
As these thousands of wounds make only a single
newspaper article
Impalpable and ark presence who have assumed
the changing shape of my shadow
an Indian on the watch through all Eternity
shadow you creep beside me
but you do not hear me any more
you will not know any more the divine poems I sing
but I hear you still and see you still
Destinies
Multiple shadows may the sun preserve you
You who love me so much that you will never leave me
And who dance in the sun without stirring the dust
Shadow ink of the sun
Signature of my light
Holder of sorrows
A god that condescends.
Come to the edgeHe said.
Vitam Impendere Amori
(Vitam Impendere Amori: To Threaten Life for Love)
Love is dead within your arms
Do you remember his encounter
He’s dead you restore the charms
He returns at your encounter
Another spring of springs gone past
I think of all its tenderness
Farewell season done at last
You’ll return as tenderly
****
In the evening light that’s faded
Where our several loves brush by
Your memory lies enchained
Far from our shades that die
O hands bound by memory
Burning like a funeral pyre
Where the last black Phoenix
Perfection comes to respire
Link by link the chain wears thin
Deriding us your memory
Flies ah hear it you who rail
I kneel again at your feet
****
You’ve not surprised my secret yet
Already the cortège moves on
But left to us is the regret
of there being no connivance none
The rose floats at the water’s edge
The maskers have passed by in crowds
It trembles in me like a bell
This heavy secret you ask now
****
Evening falls and in the garden
Women tell their histories
to Night that not without disdain
spills their dark hair’s mysteries
Little children little children
Your wings have flown away
But you rose that defend yourself
Throw your unrivalled scents away
For now’s the hour of petty theft
Of plumes of flowers and of tresses
Gather the fountain jets so free
Of whom the roses are mistresses
****
You descended through the water clear
I drowned my self so in your glance
The soldier passes she leans down
Turns and breaks away a branch
You float on nocturnal waves
The flame is my own heart reversed
Coloured as that comb’s tortoiseshell
The wave that bathes you mirrors well
****
O my abandoned youth is dead
Like a garland faded
Here the season comes again
Of suspicion and disdain
The landscape’s formed of canvasses
A false stream of blood flows down
And under the tree the stars glow fresh
The only passer by’s a clown
The glass in the frame has cracked
An air defined uncertainly
Hovers between sound and thought
Between ‘to be’ and memory
O my abandoned youth is dead
Like a garland faded
Here the season comes again
Of suspicion and disdain
There Is
There is this ship which has taken my beloved back again
There are six Zeppelin sausages in the sky and with night
coming on it makes a man think of the maggots from which the
stars might some day be reborn
There is this enemy submarine slipping up beneath my love
There are one thousand young pinetrees splintered by the
bursting of the same shells falling around me now
There is this infantryman walking by completely blinded by
poison gas
There is the obvious fact that all that is happening here was
hatched a long time ago in the intestinal trenches of Nietzche
Goethe and the metaphysicians of the town of Cologne
There is the obvious fact that I'm dying over a letter which
has thus far been delayed
There are in my wallet various photos of my beloved
There are prisoners marching past with anxious faces
There is this artillery battery with its faithful servants
hurrying among the guns
There is the postmaster arriving at a trot on the road beneath
the single tree in silhouette
There is according to rumor a spy who infiltrates somewhere
near here invisible as the horizon as the horizon-blue French
uniform he has assumed for offensive purposes and in which he
is now most effectively camouflaged
There is erect as any lily the bosom of my beloved
There is this captain anxiously awaiting the latest radio
dispatch to reach us via transatlantic cable
There are at midnight these details of soldiers sawing planks
for coffins
There are women somewhere in Mexico pleading with wild cries
for more indian corn and maize
There is this Gulf Stream which is so warm and beneficial
There is this cemetery covered with crosses only five
kilometers away
There are all these crosses everywhere this way that way
There are paradisial persimmons growing on cactus-trees in
Algeria
There are the long hands of my love
There is this inkwell which I've made from a 150 mm shell I
saved from shooting
There is my calvary saddle left out in the rain
There are all these rivers blasted off their courses which will
never go back to their banks
There is the god of Love who leads me on so sweetly
There is this German prisoner carrying his machine-gun across
his shoulders
There are men on earth who've never fought in the war
There are Hindus here who look with astonishment on the
occidental style of campaign
They meditate gravely upon those who've left this place
wondering whether they'll ever see them again
Knowing as they do what great progress we've made during this
particular war in the art of invisibility.
The Skirt
Hallo Germaine that's a fine skirt you have
A fine skirt for a queen A cruel queen
Let's feel the silk of it Silk from Japan
And trimmed with wide lace made on no machine
Your skirt's a silken bell whose double clapper
Your legs have struck the passing of my fancies
O Germaine now I ring it my breast heaving
My hands press down upon your willing haunches
Your bedroom O my bell is a fine belfry
My hands touch silk and seem to tear my ears
Those pegs are gallows on which skirts are hanging
Those hanging men are dazzling my eyes
Motionless as an owl the oil lamp watches
The Ninth Secret Poem
I worship your fleece which is the perfect triangle
Of the Goddess
I am the lumberjack of the only virgin forest
O my Eldorado
I am the only fish in your voluptuous ocean
You my lovely Siren
I am the climber on your snowy mountains
O my whitest Alp
I am the heavenly archer at your beautiful mouth
O my darling quiver
I am the hauler of your midnight hair
O lovely ship on the canal of my kisses
And the lilies of your arms are beckoning me
O my summer garden
The fruits of your breast are ripening their honey for me
O my sweet-smelling orchard
And I am raising you O Madeleine O my beauty above the earth
Like the torch of all light
The Bestiary: or Orpheus’s Procession
(Le Bestiaire ou Cortège d’Orphée)
Orpheus
Admire the vital power
And nobility of line:
It’s the voice that the light made us understand here
That Hermes Trismegistus writes of in Pimander.
The Tortoise
From magic Thrace, O delerium!
My sure fingers sound the strings.
The creatures pass to the sounds
Of my tortoise, and the songs I sing.
The Horse
My harsh dreams knew the riding of you
My gold-charioted fate will be your lovely car
That for reins will hold tight to frenzy,
My verses, the patterns of all poetry.
The Tibetan Goat
The fleece of this goat and even
That gold one which cost such pain
To Jason’s not worth a sou towards
The tresses with which I’m taken.
The Serpent
You set yourself against beauty.
And how many women have been
victims of your cruelty!
Eve, Eurydice, Cleopatra:
I know three or four more after.
The Cat
I wish there to be in my house:
A woman possessing reason,
A cat among books passing by,
Friends for every season
Lacking whom I’m barely alive.
The Lion
O lion, miserable image
Of kings lamentably chosen,
Now you’re only born in a cage
In Hamburg, among the Germans.
The Hare
Don’t be fearful and lascivious
Like the hare and the amorous.
But always let your brain weave
The full form that conceives.
The Rabbit
There’s another cony I remember
That I’d so like to take alive.
Its haunt is there among the thyme
In the valleys of the Land of Tender.
The Dromedary
With his four dromedaries
Don Pedro of Alfaroubeira
Travels the world and admires her.
He does what I would rather
If I’d those four dromedaries.
The Mouse
Sweet days, the mice of time,
You gnaw my life, moon by moon.
God! I’ve twenty eight years soon,
and badly spent ones I imagine.
The Elephant
I carry treasure in my mouth,
As an elephant his ivory.
At the price of flowing words,
Purple death!…I buy my glory.
Orpheus
Look at this pestilential tribe
Its thousand feet, its hundred eyes:
Beetles, insects, lice
And microbes more amazing
Than the world’s seventh wonder
And the palace of Rosamunde!
The Caterpillar
Work leads us to riches.
Poor poets, work on!
The caterpillar’s endless sigh
Becomes the lovely butterfly.
The Fly
The songs that our flies know
Were taught to them in Norway
By flies who are they say
Divinities of snow.
The Flea
Fleas, friends, lovers too,
How cruel are those who love us!
All our blood pours out for them.
The well-beloved are wretched then.
The Grasshopper
Here’s the slender grasshopper
The food that fed Saint John.
May my verse be similar,
A treat for the best of men.
Orpheus
His heart was the bait: the heavens were the pond!
For, fisherman, what fresh or seawater catch
equals him, either in form or savour,
that lovely divine fish, Jesus, My Saviour?
The Dolphin
Dolphins, playing in the sea
The wave is bitter gruel.
Does my joy sometimes erupt?
Yet life is still so cruel.
The Octopus
Hurling his ink at skies above,
Sucking the blood of what he loves
And finding it delicious,
Is myself the monster, vicious.
The Jellyfish
Medusas, miserable heads
With hairs of violet
You enjoy the hurricane
And I enjoy the very same.
The Lobster
Uncertainty, O my delights
You and I we go
As lobsters travel onwards, quite
Backwards, Backwards, O.
The Carp
In your pools, and in your ponds,
Carp, you indeed live long!
Is it that death forgets to free
You fishes of melancholy?
Orpheus
The female of the Halcyon,
Love, the seductive Sirens,
All know the fatal songs
Dangerous and inhuman.
Don’t listen to those cursed birds
But Paradisial Angels’ words.
The Sirens
Do I know where your ennui’s from, Sirens,
When you grieve so widely under the stars?
Sea, I am like you, filled with broken voices,
And my ships, singing, give a name to the years.
The Dove
Dove, both love and spirit
Who engendered Jesus Christ,
Like you I love a Mary.
And so with her I marry.
The Peacock
In spreading out his fan, this bird,
Whose plumage drags on earth, I fear,
Appears more lovely than before,
But makes his derrière appear.
The Owl
My poor heart’s an owl
One woos, un-woos, re-woos.
Of blood, of ardour, he’s the fowl.
I praise those who love me, too.
Ibis
Yes, I’ll pass fearful shadows
O certain death, let it be so!
Latin mortal dreadful word,
Ibis, Nile’s native bird.
The Ox
This cherubim sings the praises
Of Paradise where, with Angels,
We’ll live once more, dear friends,
When the good God intends.
Pour Y.B.
Bien qu'il me vienne en août votre quatrain d'avril
M'a gardé de tout mal et de toute blessure
Votre douceur me suit durant mon aventure
Au long de cet an sombre ainsi que fut l'an mil
Je vous remercierai s'il se peut je l'assure
Quand nous aurons vaincu le Boche lâche et vil
Dont la vertu française a ressenti l'injure.
Palace
In deepest dream towards Rosemonde's palace
My barefoot brain inclined for the evening
Like a naked king the walls are waking
Beaten flesh and fresh-cut roses
You can see my thoughts immersed in roses
Smiling at the concert of the toads
They are in the mood for cypress bedposts
The sun is a broken mirror of the rose
What badly wounded bowman opened
Stigmata of palms on the windowpane
At the white lamb's love-feast I have tasted
Resins that bitter the Cyprian wine
On the jagged lap of the lascivious king
In the May-time of her age and finest frock
Mysterious Madame Rosemonde rolls
Her little round eyes like a Hun
Lady of my thoughts your pearly asshole
Is unrivalled by anything Oriental
For whom are you waiting
Deepest dreams en route to the Orient
Are my loveliest neighbors
Knock knock Come into the forecourt night is coming
In shadow the night-light is toasted tinsel
Hang your heads by the hair on the hat-rack
The evening sky is aglimmer with pins
We entered the dining room our noses
Caught a whiff of grease and mucus
Of twenty soup bowls three were urine
The king ate two poached eggs in bouillon
And then the scullions brought in the meat dishes
A standing roast of thoughts deceased in my brain
My lovely still-born dreams in slices still bloody
And gamy little meatballs of memory
Dead for millennia now these thoughts
Had a flavorless taste of frozen mammoth
Bones or visionaries danced out of ossuaries
The dance of death in the folds of my brain
And all those meats pronounced revelations
But Holy Christ!
A famished belly has no hearing
The guests continued their best mastications
Ah Holy Christ! cried out the rib-eyes
The huge pâtes the marrow and hot-pots
Tongues of fire o where is the pentecost
Of my thoughts for all places nations and times
Moonlight
Mellifluent moon on the lips of the maddened
The orchards and towns are greedy tonight
The stars appear like the image of bees
Of this luminous honey that offends the vines
For now all sweet in their fall from the sky
Each ray of moonlight’s a ray of honey
Now hid I conceive the sweetest adventure
I fear stings of fire from this Polar bee
that sets these deceptive rays in my hands
And takes its moon-honey to the rose of the winds
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