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THREE TRANSLATIONS OF GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE POEMS
Shadow
A translation of Apollinaire’s ‘Ombre’
Shadow here you are close to me
Memories of those killed
The olive of time
Memories altogether one
A hundred furs to make just one coat
As wounds in their thousands make just one news item
Dark and impalpable apparition that has taken on
The changing shape of my shadow
As someone waiting for eternity
Shadow you approach me
But you do not hear me
You will not know of the divine poems I sing
But I hear and still see you
Destinies
Your multiple shadow guarded by the sun
You who love me enough to never leave me
You who dance in the sun and leave no dust
Inky shadow of the sun
Writing of my light
Carriage of regrets
A God who humbles himself
The Night of April 1915
A translation of Apollinaire’s ‘La Nuit d’Avril 1915’
The sky is starry with German shells
The marvellous forest where I live is having a ball
The machine gun plays a sixteenth-note tune
But have you the word
Eh! yes the fatal word
To the trenches To the trenches Drop the picks
Like a distraught star searching the seasons
Burst heart shell you whistled your love song
And a thousand suns have emptied the boxes
That the gods of my eyes fill with silence
We love you O life and we annoy you
The shells meow a deadly love
A love that is dying is sweeter than all others
Your breath swims in a river where blood runs dry
The shells meowing
Hear ours sing
Crimson love greeted by those about to die
The spring rain drenching the nightlight attack
My soul it is raining it is raining it is raining dead eyes
Ulysses how many more days to return to Ithaca
Lie down on the straw and dream of a beautiful remorse
The pure art of which is an aphrodisiac
But
Organs
On the chaff where you sleep
The hymn to the future is heavenly
Ocean of Earth
A translation of Apollinaire’s ‘Océan de Terre’
I have built a house in the middle of the Ocean
Its windows are the rivers that stream from my eyes
Octopi teem all over the standing walls
Hear their triple hearts beat and their beaks knock on the windows
Humid house
Burning house
Rapid season
Season that sings
The airplanes lay their eggs
Pay attention to the jettisoning of the anchor
Pay attention to the jettisoning of the ink
It would be good if you came from heaven
The honeysuckle climbs through the sky
The terrestrial octopi pulsate
We are so many so many to be our own diggers of graves
Pale octopi of the chalky waves O octopi of pallid beaks
Where around the house is an ocean
Never at rest
Ralph Hawkins’ work has appeared in many publications, books, magazines, anthologies especially the groundbreaking A Various Art. He has interviewed Ted Berrigan (Talking in Tranquility), collaborated with Bob Cobbing, Kelvin Corcoran and Alan Halsey. He has written about Douglas Oliver, Alice Notley and Ted Berrigan. His most recent publications have been A Fancy Breeze Gets Up (Shearsman) and trumpets stuffed with cloth (Crater Press).
Copyright © 2025 by Ralph Hawkins, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.
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