I wear your ring
It is very finely chiseled
The whistle pleases me more
Than an Egyptian palace
The whistle of the trenches
You know
At most if I don’t stop
The metros and taxis with it
O war
Multiplication of love
Little two-hole whistle
With a thread one takes the measure of the finger
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-case-darmons-oracles-guillaume-apollinaire/
