Guillaume Apollinaire

Guillaume Apollinaire

1880-08-25 Roma, Itália
1918-11-09 Paris, França
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Some Poems

There Is

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.

Vitam Impendere Amori

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

Palace

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
Guillaume Apollinaire (26 August 1880 – 9 November 1918) Wilhelm Albert Wlodzimierz Apolinary Kostrowicki, known as Guillaume Apollinaire was a French poet, playwright, short story writer, novelist, and art critic born in Italy to a Polish mother. Among the foremost poets of the early 20th century, he is credited with coining the word Surrealism and writing one of the earliest works described as surrealist, the play The Breasts of Tiresias (1917, used as the basis for a 1947 opera). Two years after being wounded in World War I, he died in the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918 at age 38. Biography Born Wilhelm Albert Wlodzimierz Apolinary Kostrowicki and raised speaking French, among other languages, he emigrated to France and adopted the name Guillaume Apollinaire. His mother, born Angelica Kostrowicka, was a Polish noblewoman born near Navahrudak (now in Belarus). Apollinaire's father is unknown but may have been Francesco Flugi d'Aspermont, a Swiss Italian aristocrat who disappeared early from Apollinaire's life. Apollinaire was partly educated in Monaco. Apollinaire was one of the most popular members of the artistic community of Montparnasse in Paris. His friends and collaborators in that period included Pablo Picasso, Gertrude Stein, Max Jacob, André Salmon, Marie Laurencin, Andre Breton, André Derain, Faik Konica, Blaise Cendrars, Pierre Reverdy, Alexandra Exter, Jean Cocteau, Erik Satie, Ossip Zadkine, Marc Chagall and Marcel Duchamp. In 1911, he joined the Puteaux Group, a branch of the cubist movement. On September 7, 1911, police arrested and jailed him on suspicion of stealing the Mona Lisa, but released him a week later. Apollinaire then implicated his friend Pablo Picasso, who was also brought in for questioning in the art theft, but he was also exonerated. He fought in World War I and, in 1916, received a serious shrapnel wound to the temple. He wrote Les Mamelles de Tirésias while recovering from this wound. During this period he coined the word surrealism in the program notes for Jean Cocteau and Erik Satie's ballet Parade, first performed on 18 May 1917. He also published an artistic manifesto, L'Esprit nouveau et les www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive poètes. Apollinaire's status as a literary critic is most famous and influential in his recognition of the Marquis de Sade, whose works were for a long time obscure, yet arising in popularity as an influence upon the Dada and Surrealist art movements going on in Montparnasse at the beginning of the twentieth century as, "The freest spirit that ever existed." The war-weakened Apollinaire died of influenza during the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918. He was interred in the Le Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris. In 1900 he wrote his first pornographic novel, Mirely, ou le petit trou pas cher, which was eventually lost. Apollinaire's first collection of poetry was L'enchanteur pourrissant (1909), but Alcools (1913) established his reputation. The poems, influenced in part by the Symbolists, juxtapose the old and the new, combining traditional poetic forms with modern imagery. In 1913, Apollinaire published the essay Les Peintres cubistes on the cubist painters, a movement which he helped to define. He also coined the term orphism to describe a tendency towards absolute abstraction in the paintings of Robert Delaunay and others. In 1907, Apollinaire wrote the well-known erotic novel, The Eleven Thousand Rods (Les Onze Mille Verges). Officially banned in France until 1970, various printings of it circulated widely for many years. Apollinaire never publicly acknowledged authorship of the novel. Another erotic novel attributed to him was The Exploits of a Young Don Juan (Les exploits d'un jeune Don Juan), in which the 15-year-old hero fathers three children with various members of his entourage, including his aunt. The book was made into a movie in 1987. Shortly after his death, Calligrammes, a collection of his concrete poetry (poetry in which typography and layout adds to the overall effect), and more orthodox, though still modernist poems informed by Apollinaire's experiences in the First World War and in which he often used the technique of automatic writing, was published. In his youth Apollinaire lived for a short while in Belgium, mastering the Walloon dialect sufficiently to write poetry through that medium, some of which has survived. Works: Poetry Le bestiaire ou le cortège d’Orphée, 1911 Alcools, 1913 Vitam impendere amori', 1917 Calligrammes, poèmes de la paix et de la guerre 1913-1916, 1918 (published shortly after Apollinaire's death) Il y a..., 1925 Julie ou la rose, 1927 Ombre de mon amour, poems addressed to Louise de Coligny-Châtillon, 1947 Poèmes secrets à Madeleine, pirated edition, 1949 Le Guetteur mélancolique, previously unpublished works, 1952 Poèmes à Lou, 1955 Soldes, previously unpublished works, 1985 Et moi aussi je suis peintre, album of drawings for Calligrammes, from a private collection, published 2006 Prose Mirely ou le Petit Trou pas cher, 1900 "Que faire?", Les Onze Mille Verges ou les amours d'un hospodar, 1907 L'enchanteur pourrissant, 1909 L'Hérèsiarque et Cie (short story collection), 1910 Les exploits d’un jeune Don Juan, 1911 La Rome des Borgia, 1914 La Fin de Babylone - L'Histoire romanesque 1/3, 1914 www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive Les Trois Don Juan - L'Histoire romanesque 2/3, 1915 Le poète assassiné, 1916 La femme assise, 1920Les Épingles (short story collection), 1928 Plays Les Mamelles de Tirésias, play, 1917 La Bréhatine, screenplay (collaboration with André Billy), 1917 Couleurs du temps, 1918 Casanova, published 1952 Articles Le Théâtre Italien, illustrated encyclopedia, 1910 Pages d'histoire, chronique des grands siècles de France, chronicles, 1912 Méditations esthétiques. Les peintres cubistes, 1913 La Peinture moderne, 1913 L'Antitradition futuriste, manifeste synthèse, 1913 Case d'Armons, 1915 L'esprit nouveau et les poètes, 1918 Le Flâneur des Deux Rives, chronicles, 1918 www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive
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The poet who painted with his words - Geneviève Emy
Guillaume Apollinaire lit "Le pont Mirabeau"
Guillaume APOLLINAIRE : sa VIE et son INCROYABLE POÉSIE !
Guillaume APOLLINAIRE – Un siècle d'écrivains : 1880-1918 (DOCUMENTAIRE, 1998)
La minute de poésie : Le Pont Mirabeau [Guillaume Apollinaire]
Comment "Alcools" d'Apollinaire a bouleversé la poésie
EP21 guillaume apollinaire - pásmo
Guillaume Apollinaire: Influential Pre-World War I French Poet
29th Feb 2024 //Thursday Special Evening Service//EV. NSHUTI APPOLINAIRE//
Guillaume Apollinaire, l’enchanteur étoilé (1880-1918) : Une vie, une œuvre (2014 / France Culture)
Alcools d'Apollinaire, Modernité poétique : analyse pour le bac de français !
Écoutez Apollinaire lire un de ses poèmes en 1913 - #CulturePrime
APOLLINAIRE – À la recherche de Guillaume (Émission TV, 1960)
Marc Lavoine - Le Pont Mirabeau(Guillaume Apollinaire)
À la Santé - Guillaume Apollinaire - extrait
Guillaume Apollinaire: Něžný jako vzpomínka | MLUVENÉ SLOVO CZ
Guillaume Apollinaire : Poèmes à Lou par Jean-Louis et Marie Trintignant (2003 / France Culture)
GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE
Poésie : “La chanson du mal aimé”, Apollinaire
Léo Ferré - "L'Adieu" - [Guillaume Apollinaire]
GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE (fra)
#Čitateľský denník: Guillaume Apollinaire - Alkoholy
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Alcools, Guillaume Apollinaire | Bac français 2024
Guillaume Apollinaire (Español)
The Death of Guillaume Apollinaire
Poème "Le Pont Mirabeau" de Guillaume Apollinaire
Guillaume Apollinaire
À la Santé - Guillaume Apollinaire
Nedoceněný Guillaume Apollinaire a jeho kaligram.
Lorànt Deutsch : Guillaume Apollinaire, l'inventeur de la poésie moderne
Guillaume Apollinaire - Most Mirabeau (recituje M. Geišberg)
Guillaume Apollinaire
Léo Ferré : Le Pont Mirabeau (Apollinaire)
La minute de poésie : Quatre jours mon amour [Guillaume Apollinaire]
Poulenc: Quatre Poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire - 1. L'Anguille
Poulenc: Quatre Poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire - 2. Carte-Postale
La chanson du mal aimé de Guillaume Apollinaire (Remastered)
Guillaume APOLLINAIRE – Lettres à Lou (France Culture, 2009)
Quatre poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire: Carte postale
"Guillaume Apollinaire: The Poetic Trailblazer who Redefined Modern Literature." | Biography
Clotilde - Guillaume Apollinaire
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Guillaume Apollinaire, 1960's - Film 90099
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