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" I love men, not for what unites them, but for what divides them, and I want to know most of all what gnaws at their
hearts. "
Guillaume Apollinaire
" A structure becomes architectural, and not sculptural, when its elements no longer have their justification in
nature."
Guillaume Apollinaire
" Artists are, above all, men who want to become inhuman."
Guillaume Apollinaire
Two Poems by Guillaume Apollinaire
- Hunting Horns -
Our past is as noble and as tragic
As the mask of a tyrant
No tale of danger or of magic
Nothing so insignificant
Describes the pathos of our love
And Thomas de Quincy drinking his
Sweet and chaste and poisoned glass
Dreaming went to see his Ann
Let us since all passes pass
I shall look back only too often
Memories are hunting horns
Whose sound dies among the wind
- Autumn Crocuses -
by Guillaume Apollinaire
The meadow is poisonous but pretty in the autumn
The cows that graze there are slowly poisoned
Meadow-saffron the colour of lilac and of shadows
Under the eyes grows there your eyes are like those flowers
Mauve as their shadows and mauve as this autumn
And for your eyes' sake my life is slowly poisoned
Children from school come with their commotion
Dressed in smocks and playing the mouth-organ
Picking autumn crocuses which are like their mothers
Daughters of their daughters and the colour of your eyelids
Which flutter like flowers in the mad breeze blown
The cowherd sings softly to himself all alone
While slow moving lowing the cows leave behind them
Forever this great meadow ill flowered by autumn
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