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The concierge’s mother and the concierge will let anything go by
If you’re a man you’ll come along with me tonight
It would only take one guy to hold the carriage door open
While the other went up
Three gas jets lit
The landlady has consumption
When you’re done we’ll play a game of backgammon
A conductor with a sore throat
When you come to Tunis I’ll have you smoke some kief
It looks like it rhymes
Stacks of saucers flowers a calendar
Pim pam pim
I owe nearly 300 francs to my landlord
I’d rather cut off my perfectly than give them to him
I’ll leave at 8:27 p.m.
Six mirrors keep staring at each other there
I think we’re going to get even more tangled up
Dear sir
You’re a milksop of a man
This lady has a nose like a tapeworm
Louise forgot her fur
Me I don’t have any fur and I’m not cold
The Dane smokes his cigarette while consulting the timetable
The black cat crosses the brasserie
Those crêpes were exquisite
The fountain flows
Dress black as her nails
It’s completely impossible
Here you are sir
The malachite ring
The floor is strewn with sawdust
So it’s true
The red-haired waitress has been carried off by a bookseller
A journalist I know only very vaguely, by the way
Listen Jacques what I’m going to tell you is very serious
Mixed Navigation Company
He tells me sir would you like to see what I can do with etchings and paintings
I only have one little maid
After lunch café du Luxembourg
Once there he introduces me to a big fellow
Who tells me
Listen it’s charming
In Smyrna in Naples in Tunisia
But damn it where is it
The last time I was in China
It was eight or nine years ago
Honor often depends on the hour the clock shows
The quinte major
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-ondes-monday-rue-christine-guillaume-apollinaire/