Categories: POETRY

DIE FOR NOT DIE FOR, BY PAUL ELUARD: To make be trapped

“This is a restaurant like no other. Are we to believe that I do not like anyone? A tall woman beside me, beating eggs with his fingers. A traveler puts his clothes on a table and holds me head. He is wrong, I do not know any mystery, I do not even know the meaning of the word: mystery, I have never tried anything, found nothing, he is wrong to insist. The storm that, at times, out of the fog turns my eyes and shoulders. The space then has doors and windows. The traveler tells me that I am no longer the same. Over the same! I pick up the debris of all my wonders. This is the great woman who told me that they are remnants of wonders, this debris. I throw perennial streams and full of birds. The sea, the sea is calm them like the sky in the light. The colors too, if you talk to me about colors, I no longer look. Tell me about the forms, I have great need of inquétude. Great woman, tell me the forms, or I fall asleep and I live the high life, hands caught in the head and the head in the mouth, in the well-closed mouth, inner language.”

(Paul Eluard)

Meeting Bench

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