*****
Guillaume Apollinaire was a French poet, playwright, short story writer, novelist and art critic of Polish descent. Apollinaire is considered one of the foremost poets of the early 20th century, as well as one of the most impassioned defenders of Cubism and a forefather of Surrealism.
*****
THE LITTLE CAR
XXXXXXXXX‘I shall never forget that journey by night
XXXXXXXXXWhen no one dared speak, in darkness
XXXXXXXXXWhen our headlights failed
XXXXXXXXXThat tender night before the war began
XXXXXXXXXWhen farriers hurried to their villages
XXXXXXXXXSummoned by the blue of Lisieux
XXXXXXXXXAnd the gold of Versailles
XXXXXXXXXThree times we had to change a burst tyre’
War was being agreed
On August 31 1914
Shortly ahead of twelve
We left Deauville
In Rouveyre’s little car
Including his chauffeur, there were three of us
We said goodbye to everything we had known
Furious giants were rising over Europe
In expectation of the sun
Eagles were taking to the skies
Voracious fish were ascending from the depths
Nations were rushing to embrace death
Death trembled in expectation. Dogs on chains
Bared their teeth in the direction of frontiers
I carried within me all the armies that would fight
I could feel them swelling, extending over regions
Through which their columns might pour
Through the forests and villages of Belgium
Through Francorchamps and Red Water and the Springs
The settlements where invasions had always taken place
Where railways already pulsed with those about to die
I salute in advance …. a life full of colours
The deep oceans where monsters stir
In the abiding wreck of ancient bones
Upward to the unimaginable heights
Where men will vie, higher than even angels soar
Where man will contend, cosmically
Contraptioned against man, and fall
Suddenly
I possess within me new beings, full of dexterity, anticipation
We are about to create a new universe, a new world, become
This impossible accumulation of treasure, unthinkable wealth
We are summoning life, an extraordinary potential
Whilst beside us, gigantic shepherds drive forward
Great dumb flocks feeding on words herded by lies ….
And having passed through Fountainbleau
During the afternoon we arrived in Paris
At the precise moment of war’s declaration
And we understood, my comrade and I
That the little car had brought us fully
Into life’s first truly modern instance
And although we were both men, grown
We had, nevertheless, just been born
*
LA PETITE AUTO
XXXXXXXXXX‘Je n’oublierai jamais ce voyage nocturne où nul de nous ne dit un mot
XXXXXXXXXX O départ sombre où mouraient nos 3 phares
XXXXXXXXXX O nuit tendre d’avant la guerre
XXXXXXXXXX O villages où se hâtaient les
XXXXXXXXXX MARCHECHAUX-FERRANT RAPPELES
XXXXXXXXXX ENTRE MINUIT ET UNE HEURE DU MATIN
XXXXXXXXXX Vers LISIEUX latrés bleue
XXXXXXXXXX ou bien
XXXXXXXXXX Versailles d’or
XXXXXXXXXX Et 3 fois nous nous arrêtâmes pour changer un pneu qui avait eclaté’
Le 31 de mois d’Août 1914
Je partis de Deauville un peu avant minuit
Dans la petite auto de Rouveyre
Avec son chauffeur nous étions trois
Nous dîmes adieu à une époque
Des géants furieux se dressaient sur l’Europe
Les aigles quittaient leur aire attendant le soleil
Les poissons voraces montaient des abîmes
Les peuples accouraient pour se connaîtres à fond
Les morts tremblaient de peur dans leurs sombres demeures
Les chiens aboyaient vers là-bas où étaient les frontières
Je m’en allais portant en moi toutes ces armées qui se battaient
Je les sentais monter en moi et s’étaler les contrées où elles serpentaient
Francorschamps avec i’Eau Rouge et les pouhons
Région par où se font toujours les invasions
Artères ferroviaires où ceux qui s’en allaient mourir
Saluaient encore une fois la vie colorée
Oceans profonds où remuaient les monstres
Dans les vieilles carcasses naufragées
Hauteurs inimaginables où l’homme combat
Plus haut que l’aigle ne plane
L’homme y combat contre l’homme
Et descend tout à coup comme une étoile filante
Je sentais en moi des êtres neufs pleins de dextérité
Bâtir et ausi agencer un univers nouveau
Un marchand d’une opulence inouie et d’une taille prodigieuse
Et des bergers gigantesques menaient
De grands troupeaux mueuts qui broutaient les paroles
Et contre lesquels aboyaient tous les chiens sur la route
Et quand après avoir passé l’après-midi
Par Fontaînbleau
Nous arrivâmes à Paris
Au moment où l’on affichait la mobilisation
Nous comprîmes mon comrade et moi
Que la petite auto nous avaits conduit dans une époque
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxNouvelle
Et bien qu’étant déjà tous deux des hommes mûrs
Nous venons cependent de naître
*****
POSTCARD
Flowers of the cannonade
Startle the pale blue sky
Before fading
Into what remains
Of a perfect summer day
*
CARTE POSTALE
Je t’écris de dessous la tente
Tandis que meurt ce jour d’été
Où floraison éblouissante
Dans le ciel à peine bleuté
Une canonnade éclatante
Se fane avant d’avoir été
Note: This is a very loose translation of a poem
Apollinaire sent as a postcard
to Andre Rouveyre on 20 August 1915
One of my favourite stories about Apollinaire
who became an officer, was that he frequently
offered his overcoat to men under his command
if they were feeling the cold. [ST]
Steven Taylor was born and raised in Hyde, but now lives in London. His poems have appeared in Acumen, Brittle Star, Critical Quarterly, Envoi, The Frogmore Papers, International Times, Magma, The North, Orbis, Stand, The Stinging Fly, Strix, Urthona and The Wallace Stevens Journal. He was amongst the winners of the Culture Matters Bread and Roses Competitions in 2021 and 2022. He is working on a collection of poems called Hyde which is about coal mining, cotton and culture.
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