The Starry Head – Memories, Poem by Guillaume Apollinaire

Two black lakes
Between a forest
and a shirt drying

Mouth open over a harmonium
It was a voice made of eyes
While small folk trail along

A tiny little old woman with a pointed nose
I admire the blue enamel hot-water bottle
But the rat enters the corpse and stays there

A gentleman in shirtsleeves
Shaves near the window
Singing a little tune he doesn’t know very well
It makes a whole opera

You who turn toward the king
Would God want to die again

Guillaume Apollinaire

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-the-starry-head-memories-guillaume-apollinaire/