Your thighs:
The sea has stained rust at the crimson of your breasts,
And Man had bled black at your sovereign side.
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My sad heart slobbers at the poop
They spew streams of soup at itMy sad heart drools at the poopUnder the jeerings of the soldierswho break out laughingmy sad heart drools at the poopmt heart covered with tobacco-spit.Ithypallic and soldierishTheir jeerings have depraved itIn the rudder you see frescoesIthypallic and soldierishO, abracadabratic wavesTake my heart, let it be washed!Ithypallic and soldierishtheir jeerings…
He is love and the present because he has opened our house
He who purified all that we drink and tea;He is the charm of passing places,the incarnate delight of all things that abide.He is affection and the future,the strength and love that we,standing surrounded by anger and weariness,See passing in the storm-filled sky and in banners of ecstasy.He is love, perfect and rediscovered measure,Reason, marvelous and…
Come, the Wines are off to the seaside,
Look at wild Bitter rolling from the mountain tops!Let us reach, like good pilgrims, green-pillared Absinthe…Myself: No more of these landscapes.What is drunkenness, friends?I had soon – rather, even – rot in the pond,beneath the horrible scum, near the floating driftwood.
Noirs dans la neige et dans la brume,
Leurs culs en rond,À genoux, cinq petits, – misère ! –Regardent le boulanger faireLe lourd pain blond…Ils voient le fort bras blanc qui tourneLa pâte grise, et qui l’enfourneDans un trou clair.Ils écoutent le bon pain cuire.Le boulanger au gras sourireChante un vieil air.Ils sont blottis, pas un ne bouge,Au souffle du soupirail rouge,Chaud comme…
O see-saws! O Lilies!
Disdainful of labours,disdainful of famines!Dawn fills you witha [wound-searching,] cleansing love!A heavenly sweetnessbutters your stamens!Armand Silvestre
On an evening, for example, when the naive tourist has retired
the meadow’s harpsichord;they are playing cards at the bottom of the pond,mirror conjuring up favorites and queens;there are saints, veils, threads of harmony,and legendary chromatics in the setting sun.He shudders as the hunts and hordes go by.Comedy drips on the grass stages.And the distress of the poor and of the weakon those stupid planes! Before…