Curious shadows are hanging from the wornout windowpanes. And your Venetian mirror, deep as a cold spring of water, with once-gilt wyverns on its shore — who has gazed at herself in it? I am sure that more than one woman has bathed the sin of her beauty in those waters; and perhaps, if I looked for a long time, I might see a naked wraith. Our travelling chest is also very old: You love all such things, which is why I can live in your company.
Is your mind wandering? Those spiderwebs are shivering atop the tall casements. The Demon of Analogy Have unknown words ever sung on your lips — accursed tatters of some meaningless phrase? I left my apartment with exactly the sensation of a wing sliding over the strings of a musical instrument, lightly and lingeringly; this was replaced by a voice that uttered the following words in descend- ing tones: Back came the phrase — virtual, released from some previous fall of a feather or branch — henceforth heard through the voice, until at last it articulated itself alone, alive with its own personality.
Pauvre Enfant pale Pauvre enfant pale, pourquoi crier a tue-tete dans la rue ta chanson aigue et insolente, qui se perd parmi les chats, seigneurs des toits? I fled — an oddity, someone probably doomed to wear mourning for the inexplicable Penultimate. Poor Pale Child You poor pale child, why are you bawling your shrill and impertinent song at the top of your voice in the street, where it vanishes among the cats, those lords of the rooftops? As-tu jamais eu un pere? Mais tu travailles pour toi: Et ta complainte est si haute, si haute, que ta tete nue qui se leve en Fair a mesure que ta voix monte, semble vouloir partir de tes petites epaules.
Ta petit figure est energique. Elle te dira adieu quand tu paieras pour moi, pour ceux qui valent moins que moi.
Tu vins probablement au monde vers cela et tu jeunes des maintenant, nous te verrons dans les journaux. Anecdotes or Poems 93 Yet, inexorably, fatally, you keep singing, with the tenacious con- fidence of a little man who is making his way through life alone, relying on no one, and working only for himself. Did you ever have a father? No, you are working only for yourself: And your plaintive song is so high, so high, that your bare head, rising in the air as your voice rises, seems on the point of taking off from your little shoulders.
Your little face is full of energy. Not a single penny falls into the wicker basket held by your scrawny hand as it dangles hopelessly over your trousers: Your head is still uplifted and wanting to leave you, as if it knew in advance, while you keep singing in a way that is starting to seem ominous. It will bid you farewell when you pay for me — and for those who are worth less than I am. Probably you came into the world for that very reason, and from this moment on you will fast, we shall see you in the papers.
O poor little head! Mon tabac sentait une chambre sombre aux meubles de cuir saupoudres par la poussiere du charbon sur lesquels se roulait le maigre chat noir; les grands feux!
Un spectacle interrompu Que la civilisation est loin de procurer les jouissances attribuables a cet etat! Away went my cigarettes with all the child- ish joys of summer, into the past illumined by foliage blue with sunlight, muslins; and back came my solemn pipe, into the hand of a serious man who wants a good long smoke in peace and quiet so that he can work better: My tobacco used to smell of a dark room on whose leather furniture, sprinkled with coal dust, the scrawny black cat would curl itself up; the big fires!
Around her neck was wound the terrible handkerchief that you wave when saying goodbye to each other for evermore. An Interrupted Performance How far civilization is from supplying the delights attributable to such a state! Je veux, en vue de moi seul, ecrire comme elle frappa mon regard de poete, telle Anecdote, avant que la divulguent des reporters par la foule dresses a assigner a chaque chose son caractere commun.
Que se passait-il devant moi? Etranger a mainte reminiscence de pareilles soirees, Pac- cident le plus neuf! Tout oreilles, il fallut etre tout yeux. Personne qui ne haletat, tant Anecdotes or Poems 97 in every major city never form an association to support a journal that reports events in the light peculiar to dreams.
Reality is a mere artifice, good for providing the average intellect with stability amid the mirages of a fact; but for that very reason, it does rest on some universal understanding: What was happening in front of me? An accident of the most novel kind! All ears, one really needed to be all eyes. Spectacle clair, plus que les treteaux vaste, avec ce don, propre a Part, de durer longtemps: Authentiquons, par cette embrassade etroite, devant la multitude siegeant a cette fin, le pacte de notre reconciliation.
Le charme se rompit: Loque substitute saignant aupres de Pours qui, ses instincts retrouves anterieurement a Anecdotes or Poems 99 ribbons of the human shoulder. The other paw dropped slackly onto an arm that hung down against the tights; and you could see — a couple who had secretly been drawn closer together — something like a man, a lowly, stocky, kindly man, standing on two wide-apart furry legs, embrace the bust of his radiant supernatural brother in order to learn the practices of genius there, and his skull with the black muzzle only half reaching it: My request is urgent and just, as, in an anguish that is merely feigned, launched into the realms of wisdom, subtle elder!
Let us seal the pact of our reconciliation with this close embrace, in the presence of the multitude who have assembled for that very purpose. The crowd was vanishing altogether, magnifying the stage as the emblem of its own spiritual condition: The spell was broken: A bleeding tatter was substituted next to the bear who, having rediscovered the instincts that he had Anecdotes ou Poemes une curiosite plus haute dont le dotait le rayonnement theatral, retomba a quatre pattes et, comme emportant parmi soi le Silence, alia de la marche etouffee de Fespece, flairer, pour y appliquer les dents, cette proie.
Un soupir, exempt presque de deception, soulagea incomprehensiblement Fassemblee: La toile, hesitant jusque-la a accroitre le danger ou Femotion, abattit subitement son journal de tarifs et de lieux communs. A sigh, virtually free of disappointment, incomprehensibly relieved the assembly: The curtain, having hesitated until then to increase the danger or the emotion, suddenly lowered its announcements of prices and trifles.
Reminiscence I, an orphan, was roaming in black and with an eye devoid of any family: I would have asked him to admit me to his superior meal, which he quickly shared with some illustrious older boy who had sprung up against a nearby tent and was engaged in feats of strength and banalities consistent with the day. Naked, he pirouetted in the to my mind surprising nim- bleness of his tights; in addition, he began: Tu ne sais rien, des parents sont des gens droles, qui font rire.
La Declaration foraine Le Silence! Mine eats bits of string and everyone claps. The Announcement at the Fair Silence! Without any compensation for this shock except the need for some figurative explanation plausible to my mind, like a series of gradually illuminated lamps symmetrically arranged in garlands and symbols. A qui ce matelas decousu pour improviser ici, comme les voiles dans tous les temps et les temples, Parcane!
After the onslaughts of a mediocre licentiousness aimed at diverting in any way whatever our stagnation entertained by the sunset, a touching human spectacle detained us no less than the fiery cloud in the background, strange and purple: Whoever may have owned this mattress, which had been ripped apart in order to improvise here, like the veils in all times and temples, Mystery itself!
Or, rather more prosaically, perhaps the trained rat — unless the beggar himself was counting on the athletic vigour of his muscles to estab- lish himself as a popular craze — was missing at that particular moment, as so often results when man is given an ultimatum by general circumstances. A hauteur du genou, elle emergeait, sur une table, des cent tetes.
Anecdotes or Poems uncrossed as evidence that it was useless to approach his marvel-less theatre, an old man whom this companionship with an instrument of noise and invitation may have seduced to her unspecified scheme; then, as if, because of what could instantly be imagined here as most beautiful, the enigma glittered! Knee high, on a table, she was emerging from a hundred heads. The hair flight of a flame to the extreme west of desire if it should all unlace settles a diadem dying it would seem near the crowned brow its former fireplace but without sighing for more gold than this live cloud kindling the fire ever within at first the only one continues in the jewel of the eye true or remiss a tender naked hero would degrade her who stirring no star or fire would just condensing with glory womanhood flashing with her head wreak the escapade of strewing rubies on the doubt she would scorch like a joyous and tutelary torch.
As I supported the waist of the living allegory who was already resigning her post, perhaps because of a failure on my part to emit any further stream of words and gracefully cushioned her arrival on the ground: Usite a la Renaissance anglaise. Anecdotes or Poems hi or any of the other standard theatrical accessories to impress you with her charm. As you, Madame, would not have grasped so decisively, in spite of its duplicated rhyme on the final stroke, my little spiel based on a primitive form of the sonnet 1 , if each term had not echoed to you from various drums, to charm a mind open to multiplicities of meaning.
Je me rendis compte. Simplement le pare de Madame. Anecdotes or Poems ii3 The White Water Lily I had been rowing for a long time, with a strong, clean, soporific motion, my eyes turned inward and utterly oblivious of my journey, as the laughter of the hour was flowing all around. So much motion- lessness was idling away the time that, brushed by a dull sound into which my skiff half slid, I was able to confirm that it had come to a stop only by the steady glittering of initials on the bared oars, which reminded me of my worldly identity.
What was happening, where was I? To understand the episode properly, I had to remember my early departure, on this flaming July day, through the lively gap between the drowsing vegetation of a persistently narrow and wayward stream, in search of water flowers and with the intention of explor- ing a property that belonged to the friend of a friend, to whom I should say hello on the spur of the moment.
Without having been detained by any strip of grass before one vista more than another, as all alike were borne away with their reflections in the water by the same impartial oar-strokes, I had just run aground and mysteriously ended my little voyage on some clump of reeds in the middle of the stream: Detailed inspection showed me that this obstacle of tapering greenery in the current masked the single arch of a bridge that was extended on land, in both directions, by a hedge enclosing a series of lawns. Merely the gardens of Madame , the unknown lady whom I was to greet.
A pretty enough neighbourhood during the season; the character of a person who had chosen so watery and impenetrable a retreat for herself could only be in harmony with my own tastes. Surely she had formed this crystal into an internal mirror to shelter her from the brilliant tactlessness of the afternoons; she would come there, and the silvery mist icing the willows would soon be only the limpidity of her gaze familiar with every leaf. Anecdotes ou Poemes Toute je Fevoquais lustrale. Quand un imperceptible bruit me fit douter si Fhabitante du bord hantait mon loisir, ou inesperement le bassin.
Le pas cessa, pourquoi? Connait-elle un motif a sa station, elle-meme la promeneuse: Bent forward in the sporting posture in which curiosity held me, as if beneath the spacious silence through which the stranger would announce herself, I smiled at this dawn of a slavery released by a feminine possibility: I was going to conclude.
When an imperceptible noise made me wonder whether the inhabitant of the shore was haunting my leisure time or, unexpect- edly, the pond. The footsteps stopped, why? Subtle secret of feet that come and go, leading the mind wherever she may choose, dear shadow buried in cambric and the lace of a skirt flowing down over the ground as if to surround from heel to toe, floatingly, this initiative by walking opens up a transient space with its knowing double arrow, very low and with the folds thrown back in a train.
Has she some conscious reason for standing still, this walker: Si vague concept se suffit: Separes, on est ensemble: La pause se mesure au temps de ma determination. Conseille, 6 mon reve, que faire? So vague an idea is enough: Apart, we are together: I merge into her obscure intimacy, in this moment suspended on the water where my dream is delaying the indecisive creature, better than any visit followed by others could do.
How many trivial conversations there would have to be, in com- parison with this one which I have made in order not to be heard, before we could regain an understanding as intuitive as our present one, my ear flat against the mahogany and facing all the now-silent sand! The pause is measured by the time it takes me to decide. Tell me, my dream, what shall I do?
Sum up in a glance the virgin absence dispersed in this solitude and depart with it, as, to remember a certain place, you pluck one of the magical closed water lilies that suddenly rise up, enveloping nothing in their hollow whiteness, made of untouched dreams, from a happiness that will never be realized, and from the breath that I am now holding for fear of some apparition: If, drawn by some unusual feeling, that Pensive or Haughty, Cruel or Happy creature appeared, so much the worse for the indescribable face that I shall never know!
The Ecclesiastic Springtime incites an organism to actions which, in any other sea- son, are alien to it, and many a natural history treatise teems with descriptions of this phenomenon among animals. How much more plausibly interesting it would be to list some of the changes caused by this climactic moment in the behaviour of individuals who have been created for spirituality! In my own instance, when the irony of winter has barely left me, I still cling to some of its ambivalent condition, until it is replaced by a naive or absolute naturalism cap- able of seeking pleasure in the differentiation of various blades of grass.
Nothing in the present case could bring profit to the crowd, so I escape, in order to meditate on it, I escape beneath some shade trees lately surrounding the town: Keen was my surprise just now when, in a seldom-frequented corner of the Bois de Boulogne, I saw a lowly sombre commotion through the chinks within the myriad bushes that are no good for hiding anything: Tout, se frictionner ou jeter les membres, se rouler, glisser, aboutissait a une satisfaction: La Gloire La Gloire! Anecdotes or Poems temptation of a backward glance, to merely imagine the quasi- diabolical apparition who continued to rumple the new season right and left with his sides and stomach, thus achieving a chaste frenzy.
Everything, rubbing himself or twitching his limbs, rolling, slither- ing, resulted in satisfaction: The frantic flappings of a cloth have been familiar to you, O solitude, cold silence strewn through the greenery, perceived by senses less subtle than troubled; as if the darkness hidden in its folds was finally shaken out of it! He had only to look cheerily within himself for the cause of a pleasure or duty which, in the presence of a lawn, could hardly be explained by a return to the gambols of the seminary. As the influence of the vernal breeze softly enlarged the immutable texts inscribed on his flesh, he too, emboldened by this disturbance that pleased his sterile thinking, had come to acknowledge the general well-being by an immediate, clean, violent, positive contact with Nature, stripped of all intellectual curiosity; and far from the obediences and constraints of his occupa- tion, from canons and prohibitions and censures, he was rolling in the bliss of his innate simplicity, happier than a donkey.
When the object of his outing had been attained, I should not dream of denying that the hero of my vision stood up straight in a single bound, not without shaking off the pistils and wiping off the sap that clung to his person, so that he could return unperceived into the crowd and the habits of his ministry; but I have the right to avoid considering such matters.
Surely my discretion in regard to those incipiently glimpsed frolics has been rewarded by being fixed forever as the daydream of a passer-by who was pleased to complete it, an image stamped with a mysterious seal of modernity, at once baroque and beautiful. All around, a deceptive tran- quillity of opulent woodlands is holding some extraordinary state of illusion poised, what answer can you give me?
An unresponsive uniform invites me to a certain barrier, and with- out a word I hand over my ticket instead of the metallic bribe. Un gout pour une maison abandonnee, lequel paraitrait favor- able a cette disposition, amene a me dedire: Gage de retours fideles, mais voila que ce battement, vermoulu, scande un vacarme, refrains, altercations, en-dessous: Anecdotes or Poems who has stolen away stealthily, feeling that there are bitter and luminous sobbings this year, many a wavering indefinite idea shunning haphazard things like branches, a certain quivering that makes you think of some autumn beneath the skies.
Nobody and, since the arms of doubt have flown away like someone who carries off a prize in secret splendour, a trophy too insignificant to be visible! I waited, in order to be that very person, until the train that had set me down there alone, once more under the influence of its habitual motion, slowly shrank in scale to the proportions of childish monster carrying various people somewhere. Conflict For a long time, for some time now — so I believed — my thought abstained from any accidents, even true ones; preferring to draw from the fountain of its own essence, instead of chance.
A fondness for an abandoned house, which might seem to favour such a state of mind, now leads me to issue a retraction: A reward for faithful returns; but now the banging of those worm-eaten shutters is rhythmically beating a raucous din, refrains, altercations, from below: Les maitres si quelque part, denues de gene, verbe haut.
Cette cohue entre, part, avec le manche, a Fepaule, de la pioche et de la pelle: Aucun homme de loi ne se targue de deloger Fintrus — baux tacites, usages locaux — etabli par surprise et ayant meme paye aux proprietaires: Quelque langage, la chance que je le tienne, com- porte du dedain, bien sur, puisque la promiscuite, couramment, me deplait: A henceforth exclusive feeling of tenderness that, in the process of suppressing lovely places, this was the one that suffered the greatest insult; I am becoming the host of its decline: Earth-diggers, well-diggers, with worn-out corduroy on their legs — evidence that the embankment must be making progress; relax- ing in a trench, they gradually arrange the blue and white transverse stripes of their jerseys like a sheet of water clothing oh!
Weary and strong, a teeming mass wherever the earth is in need of alteration, they find their independ- ence in the absence of a factory, throughout inclement weather. The masters, if anywhere, are unconstrained, loud of speech. These hordes come and go, their pick- and shovel-handles on their shoulders: No man of law prides himself on ousting an intruder — silent leases, local customs — established by surprise and even after paying the owners: I must play the role or else restrict the trespass as far as I have the right to do.
If I happened to utter any language, it would sound scornful, of course, because promiscuous things generally displease me: Alternatives, je prevois la saison, de sympathie et de malaise. So I withdraw my defence just as quickly, with the same sensitivity that had heightened it; and I introduce the beseiger with my own hand. Alternatives, I can foresee this time, one of sympathy and uneasi- ness. Tres raide, il me scrute avec animosite. Sans que je cede meme par un pugilat qui illustrerait, sur le gazon, la lutte des classes, a ses nouvelles provocations debordantes.
Le mal qui le ruine, Pivrognerie, y pourvoira, a ma place, au point que le sachant, je souffre de mon mutisme, garde indifferent, qui me fait complice. Apprehension quant a cette heure, qui prend la transparence de la journee, avant les ombres puis Pecoule lucide vers quelque profondeur. Les compagnons apprecient Pinstant, a leur faqon, se concertent, entre souper et coucher, sur les salaires ou interminablement disputent, en le decor vautres. Anecdotes or Poems May no stranger cross its threshold as if to a tavern, the workers will go to their workplace by a rented road mown through the fields.
I understand at whom the compliment is aimed, well! He studies me with hostility, looking very stiff. Impossible to blot him out mentally: Nor can I even succumb to his copious new provocations by a fist-fight that would illustrate the class struggle on the lawn. The evil that is ruin- ing him, drunkenness, will do that job for me, so completely that I, knowing it, am suffering from my own silence; my continuing impassivity has made me an accomplice.
I have even been affected by a nervous weakness due to indolent, warped, contradictory states of mind and the contagiousness, caused by agitation, of a certain imbecile intoxication. All the same, when you steep yourself in a realm of echoes, tran- quillity is required; and I have so much of it that I am silent, especially on Sunday evenings. Some misgivings about the hour, which, before the shadows fall, becomes as transparent as the day, and then sheds it lucidly into some deep place. I like to be present calmly during this crisis, so that it may have a witness of some kind.
My companions appreciate the moment in their own way; between supper and bedtime they hold a consultation about their wages or else argue interminably, as they sprawl in the scenery. Ce colloque, frequent, en muettes restrictions de mon cote, manque, par enchantement; quelle pierrerie, le ciel fluide!
Toutes les bouches ordinaires tues au ras du sol comme y degorgeant leur vanite de parole. A quoi — tait, dans la conscience seule, un echo — du moins, qui puisse servir, parmi Pechange general. Tristesse que ma production reste, a ceux-ci, par essence, comme les nuages au crepuscule ou des etoiles, vaine. Ainsi vais-je librement admirer et songer. Always the same story: Quieted, all commonplace mouths are flush with the ground, as though they were disgorging their vain speeches there.
I was going to conclude: At what — an echo, in the mind alone, falls silent — at least, something that might be useful in general trading. How sad that my products should remain, for these men, in a state of essence, as vain as the evening clouds or stars! In reality, today, what is the matter? The work gang lies at its meeting-place, but vanquished. Its indi- vidual members, slumped in the grass, and staggering as if shot down, have hardly found the strength to arrive and drop on this tiny battlefield: So I am going to marvel and muse freely. No, my gaze cannot escape toward the horizon from the window where I am leaning, without some part of me inappropriately over- stepping those scattered plague victims, which would show a lack of courtesy and propriety in my turn; from my own standpoint, I must appreciate their mysteriousness and assess their task: Je penserai, done, uniquement, a eux, les importuns, qui me ferment, par leur abandon, le lointain vesperal; plus que, nagueres, par leur tumulte.
Anecdotes or Poems not enough for them unlike the majority and more fortunate ones — first they worked for a substantial part of the week to gain it; and now here they are, with no knowledge of tomorrow, crawling through the haze and digging motionlessly — making as big a hole in their destiny as the one they have dug daily till now in the reality of the ground a foundation for a temple, assuredly. By stopping, waiting, and momentarily committing suicide, they honourably retain the sacred part of existence, without witnessing what it is or what lightning-bolts this festal occasion is shedding.
The knowledge that would become resplendent — of a certain pride in their daily work, simply to resist and stand tall — is magnified on all sides by a colonnade of trees; some instinct sought that knowledge in a large number of drinks, to contort them in this way, and at dusk, victims rather than officers, with the absoluteness of a ritual consummation, they have reached the point of representing the stupefaction of tasks when they are imposed by necessity instead of some desire.
The constellations are starting to shine: Thus I shall think only of them, the intruders, who are shutting out the distant twilight from me, more effectively by their current surrender than by their previous hubbub. As I watch over them alongside a limpid unwavering river, I may see these artisans of elementary tasks as the people — a healthy understanding of the human condition is daily bending their backs in order to draw forth, without the intermediary of wheat, the miracle of life that assures presence: Son aiguillette, sans bouffette, Triste, pend aux sapins givres, Et la neige qui tombe est faite De tous ses cartels dechires!
The brigand in bold garb 5 brocaded with fine gold who slashed the grapes till they bled purple. Now merely a bald old Guritan in his cold and bolted sky, 10 letting a rusty sunbeam slap against his mauve breeches. His aglet with no rosette dangles sadly in the frosted firs, and the falling snow is composed 1 5 of all his shredded challenges!
Mysticis umbraculis Prose des Fous Elle dormait: Uncollected Poems The Boundless, that proud dream lulling all stars and souls 5 like tiny grains of sand within its surging brine! In the Mystical Shadows Liturgy for the Feast of Fools She was asleep; her bare and jewelless finger, placed beneath her nightgown, quivered; after a deep sigh it grew still, hitching up the cambric to her waist. And her belly seemed like a snowdrift where, while a gold sunbeam lit its forest lair, the mossy nest of some bright finch might lie.
La mitre byzantine et le baton sculpte. Dante, au laurier amer, dans un linceul se drape, Un linceul fait de nuit et de serenite: Anacreon, tout nu, rit et baise une grappe Sans songer que la vigne a des feuilles, Pete. Tu comprends que le pauvre est le frere du chien Et ne vas pas drapant ta lesine en poeme. Comme un chacal sortant de sa pierre, 6 chretien Tu rampes a plat ventre apres qui te bafoue. Vieux, combien par grimace? Mets a nu ta vieillesse et que la gueuse joue, Leche, et de mes vingt sous chatouille la vertu. Amid the scarlet flashes of their gay tambourine all the great Bohemians, fantastically decked in rosemary, 10 pass by, spangled with stars, maddened with the Absolute.
Hatred of the Poor Those midnight rags of yours, with holes exposing your freckles and red bristles — I love them all: Like a jackal leaving its lair, dear Christian, you grovel after those who mock at you. What price a tear, old man? Bare your senility; let it swindle, coax, 1 0 wheedle the virtue that my twenty sous have.
Uncollected Poems Que veut cette medaille idiote, ris-tu? Le Chateau de Pesperance Ta pale chevelure ondoie Parmi les parfums de ta peau Comme folatre un blanc drapeau Dont la soie au soleil blondoie. Uncollected Poems Why that silly old coin, you scoff? The money is glittering, some day it must verdigris, I am scarcely devout and very stubborn, make your choice.
Clutch it tight, tell yourself you have it only out of scorn — or because I own too much. Because a bit of roast was done to a turn, because the paper reported a rape, because the maid had forgotten to button her blouse over her tawdry and ill-shaped breasts, because on the clock he could see a naughty old couple from a bed as big as a vestry, or because he lay awake with his leg shamelessly brushing another leg beneath the sheets, some simpleton plants his cold dry wife underneath him, rubs his tasselled crown against her white cap and toils inexorably, puffing and panting: The Castle of Hope Your fair hair is fluttering across the scents of your skin like a white flag frolicking as its silk glints yellow in the sunlight.
A son ventre compare heureuses deux tetines Et, si haut que la main ne le saura saisir, Elle darde le choc obscur de ses bottines Ainsi que quelque langue inhabile au plaisir. Uncollected Poems My heart wearies of beating a ditty in tears on a drum that has burst with such fluid, renounces its past and, unfurling your tresses in waves, marches off and mounts an attack, scales the heights — or else rolls drunkenly over marshes of blood, to plant that banner of finest gold on a dark-hued copper castle — where Hope, listlessly weeping, rubs up and smooths down Night black as a black cat without one pallid star gleaming.
Du cygne quand parmi le pale mausolee Ou la plume plongea la tete, desolee Par le diamant pur de quelque etoile, mais Anterieure, qui ne scintilla jamais.
Etang de la pourpre complice! Et sur les incarnats, grand ouvert, ce vitrail. La chambre, singuliere en un cadre, attirail De siecles belliqueux, orfevrerie eteinte, A le neigeux jadis pour ancienne teinte, Et la tapisserie, au lustre nacre, plis Inutiles avec les yeux ensevelis De sibylles, offrant leur ongle vieil aux Mages. O this mansion of degenerate dismal country! The drab water, no longer visited by a feather or unforgettable swan, is calm: Pool, accomplice of that purple! Wide open, over the rose hues, this stained-glass window.
The curious room within a frame — the pomp of a warlike era, all the goldwork tarnished — used to be tinged with snowy yesteryear; its lustrous pearly tapestries are useless folds with the buried eyes of Sibyls offering their aged fingernails toward the Magi. One of them, with a woven past of flowers on her gown bleached in a locked ivory chest and with a bird-strewn sky on the black silver, ghostly and garbed in risen flights, seems an aroma carrying, O roses! Une Aurore trainait ses ailes dans les larmes!
Ombre magicienne aux symboliques charmes! Elle a chante, parfois incoherente, signe Lamentable! Froide enfant, de garder en son plaisir subtil Au matin grelottant de fleurs, ses promenades, Et quand le soir mechant a coupe les grenades! Uncollected Poems far from the void bed veiled by a spent candle, an aroma of cold bones roaming over the sachet, a bunch of flowers faithless to the moon one is still shedding petals on the dead wax ; their stalks and their prolonged regret are steeped 35 in one solitary vase with languid brilliance.
Sorceress shadow with symbolic charms! A voice, a distant evocation of the past, is it mine, is it ready to utter incantations? O what distance hidden in those calls! And so, by means of silence and dark shadows, all things alike return to the long-distant past, 55 fateful, defeated, weary, and monotonous, like water settling in some ancient pool.
She has sung, sometimes incoherently, a lamentable sign! Did it ever possess that? Cold little girl, preserving as her subtle pleasure her walks in the dawn shivering with flowers and when wicked dusk slit the pomegranates! Uncollected Poems Le croissant, oui le seul est au cadran de fer De Phorloge, pour poids suspendant Lucifer, Toujours blesse, toujours une nouvelle heuree, Par la clepsydre a la goutte obscure pleuree, Que, delaissee, elle erre, et, sur son ombre, pas Un ange accompagnant son indicible pas!
II ne sait pas cela, le roi qui salarie Depuis longtemps la gorge ancienne et tarie. Reviendra-t-il un jour des pays cisalpins! Et bientot sa rougeur de triste crepuscule Penetrera du corps la cire qui recule! He knows nothing of that, the king whose pay has so long hired those dried and aged breasts. Her father does not know it, nor the wild 75 glacier mirroring his arms of steel, when on some sprawling heap of corpses with no resinous coffins, enigmatically he offers his dim silvery trumpets to the old pines! Will he return some day from the Cisalpine lands! For all things are bad dreams and ill omens!
On the fingernail raised amid the stained-glass window according to the memory of those trumpets, the old sky burns, turning a finger into an envious candle. O vain climat nul! Et lui, lorsque la brise, ivre de ces delices, Suspend encore un nom qui ravit les calices, A voix faible, parfois, appelle bas: Uncollected Poems In the Garden One day the young lady strolling over the lawn before summer adorned with fruits and allurements, when sated Noon had scattered the twelfth of the hours, halted her fair steps amid such bounty and, tragic abandoned bride, declared 5 to Death enticing her Poet: Doom, you are telling a lie!
I know I am jealous of the false Eden where he, in his grief, will never be dwelling. Sonnet pour elle O si chere de loin et proche et blanche, si Delicieusement toi, Mery, que je songe A quelque baume rare emane par mensonge Sur aucun bouquetier de cristal obscurci. Sleep on impassively with no fear 5 that a breath might confess something on waking that you never had contemplated with a kind of pout.
All the dreams that are amazed when they are baffled by such beauty lend not one flower to the cheek unpaid diamonds in the eye anything on waking that you never had. Sonnet for her O so dear from afar and nearby and sheer white, so deliciously yourself, dear Mery, that I dream of some rare balm shed by deceit on whichever vase of darkened crystal do you know, yes! Uncollected Poems no song can ever spark 5 the sudden gleam of a smile if you wish we shall make love with your lips wordlessly softly softly between the rounds sylph in imperial purple 10 a flaming kiss is sundered on the very tips of the pinions if you wish we shall make love Street Folk The Seller of Garlic and Onions With garlic we distance the tedium of paying a visit; whenever I cut an onion weeping Elegy can hardly wait.
The Roadmender You level those pebbles and, being a troubadour, I too must crack open a cube of brains each day. The Newsboy Over and over, whatever the headline, without even catching a cold when the ice thaws, this cheery little half-pint keeps calling out some new number. Uncollected Poems The Old Clothes Woman Your keen eye parts me from my togs peering right into their contents so that like a god I go naked. Fan Belonging to Mery Laurent Frigid roses to exist all alike will interrupt your frosted breath with a quick white calyx but should my fluttering liberate 5 the whole bunch with a profound shock that frigidity will melt into the laughter of a rapturous blossoming see how like a good fan you are better than a phial at carving the sky into fragments no flask could be stoppered without losing or violating the fragrance of Mery.
Uncollected Poems Homage Every Dawn however numb when she lifts a dark fist to grip the trumpets of the blue which she blows though deaf and dumb has the shepherd with the gourd plus the rod struck forcibly where his future steps will be till the vast spring is outpoured So you live facing the brink O Puvis far from the crowd de Chavannes never alone as you lead our time to drink at the nymph without a shroud which your glory will make known.
Little Ditty Warlike When I feel my leg reddish-dyed dressed in a pair of military pantaloons by the fireside it not to keep my peace suits me I wait for onslaughts to begin with the virgin hostility of nothing but a drumstick in the white gloves of the soldiery stark bare or keeping its bark yet, not to outgeneral Germany but as a different kind of threat to the end that is sought from me. Uncollected Poems to cut short all the lunacy of the wild nettle Sympathy. Tomb Anniversary — J a n nary i8gy The black rock, cross how the north wind has rolled it on!
Here almost always if the dove has cooed, 5 with nubile folds its immaterial sorrow oppresses the ripe star of that tomorrow whose glint will silver all the multitude. Uncollected Poems Qui cherche, parcourant le solitaire bond Tantot exterieur de notre vagabond — Verlaine? Verlaine is hidden in the lawn to catch no more than in plain harmony before the lip drank there or spent its breath a much-maligned and shallow trickle, death. Herodias Canticle of John the Baptist The sun that was exalted when it miraculously halted is once more sinking low brightly aglow Appendix i: II les multiplia au gre de ses relations.
Rue, au 23, Ballu. None of the verse addresses reproduced below failed to reach its destination. The poet adds that the idea came to him purely for aesthetic reasons, because of an obvious similarity between the format of a postal address and the layout of a quatrain. He has penned many such things to entertain his friends.
Now June is here I express my satisfaction that Monsieur Degas rhymes with the mock-orange blossom.
Monsieur Monet, whose vision goes astray neither in winter nor in summer, lives painting at Giverny located near Vernon, in the Eure. At the Villa des Arts, near the Avenue de Clichy, paints Monsieur Renoir who gets something other than the blues when faced with a bare shoulder. Adieu Forme et le chataignier! Occasional Verses Paris, the home of Madame Mery Laurent, who dwells far from the vulgar herd in her tres chic little house at 9 Boulevard Lannes.
Amusing herself by fattening up her spleen or charming liver Madame Mery Laurent at the waters of Evian Savoy. Orthographe fautive pour Tenaiucan. Boban, le 9e soi-disant empereur. Encore un exemple d'une mauvaise coupure. Une phrase' des Memoriales de Motolinia p. Xihutonal amatl, qui veut dire: Orne calli veut dire deux maisons. Le terme mexicain est tlalpilli tla. Orozco ty Berra, Anales del Mus. LV initiale prouve que ce mot est corrompu. Garcia Icazbalceta, Nueva Coleccion Tonatiuh, le dieu solaire. Tonacateutli, et Tonacaciuatl cilmatl est une, fausse lecture de cihuatl ; 9.
Dans le Codex Fuenleal: Ocelotonatiuh soleil' du jaguar. Mitlantentli pour Mictlantecutli; 3. Le Codex Fuenleal ch. La Cosmographie donne ici le chiffre Gitlaline est une orthographe fautive pour cit- lallicue ou citlallin icue. Tlaloque, pluriel de Tlaloc. Mictlanteutli le seigneur du lieu des morts. Xolotl; coq d'Inde est la tradution de uexocotl. Tamouan ichan est traduitpar M. Codex, Borgia, I, p. L'arbre s'appelle incorrectement quezalhuesuch. Ce mythe de l'origine.
C'est le nom d'un dieu solaire. Lisez Xochiquetzal ' fleur brillante. Lisez Xochipilli jeune dieu des fleurs. Forme diminutive deNanauatl il buboso. Faute d'orthographe pour Piltzinteutli. Picenticli, Pincetuli, Piciciu- tecli, Pilcetecli. Le chia ou chian est une plante dont la graine. Elle est encore Date de parution: Encore un coup de Papillon!
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