1. (From: Fetes de la Patience)
71 lines
Tisonnant, tisonnant son coeur amoureux sous
Sa chaste robe noire, heureux, la main gantée,
16 lines
At centre, the Emperor, blue-yellow, in apotheosis,
Gallops off, ramrod straight, on his fine gee-gee,
16 lines
1. (From: Fetes de la Patience)
53 lines
Truly, they’re stupid, these village churches
Where fifteen ugly chicks soiling the pillars
188 lines
It’s a green hollow where a river sings
Madly catching white tatters in the grass.
16 lines
Thus continually towards the dark azure,
Where the sea of topazes shimmers,
432 lines
Noirs dans la neige et dans la brume,
Au grand soupirail qui s'allume,
46 lines
Thus, ever, towards the azure night
213 lines
That bright-eyed and brown-skinned youth,
The fine twenty-year body that should go naked,
48 lines
Le bras sur un marteau gigantesque, effrayant
D'ivresse et de grandeur, le front large, riant
357 lines
Morts de Quatre-vingt-douze et de Quatre-vingt-treize,
Qui, pâles du baiser fort de la liberté,
37 lines
And the mother, closing the work-book
Went off, proud, satisfied, not seeing,
68 lines
He is love and the present because he has opened our house
to winter's foam and to the sound of summer,
42 lines
I went off with my hands in my torn coat pockets; my overcoat too was
becoming ideal;
18 lines
On an evening, for example, when the naive tourist has retired
from our economic horrors, a master's hand awakens
26 lines
It is a repose in the light,
neither fever nor languor,
43 lines
Golden dawn and shivering evening find our brig lying by opposite
this villa and its dependencies which form a promontory
19 lines
My sad heart leaks at the poop,
My heart covered in filthy shag:
25 lines
From the indigo straits to Ossian's seas,
on pink and orange sands washed by the vinous sky,
30 lines
O that warm February morning!
The untimely south came
37 lines
In winter we’ll travel in a little pink carriage
With cushions
16 lines
The poor omnibus driver under the tin canopy,
warming a huge chilblain inside his glove,
16 lines
We are your Grand-Parents, the Grown-Ups!
Covered with the cold sweats of the moon and the greensward.
19 lines
One of the voices
Always angelic -
43 lines
On the slope of the knoll angels
whirl their woolen robes
15 lines
O the enormous avenues of the Holy Land,
the temple terraces!
65 lines
The cascade resounds behind operetta huts.
Fireworks prolong, through the orchards
5 lines
Jeanne-Marie has strong hands; dark hands tanned by the summer,
pale hands like dead hands. Are they the hands of Donna Juana?
52 lines
Very sturdy rogues.
Several have exploited your worlds.
30 lines
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