Late Autumn Shock Therapy

On a warm late-autumn day

In Paris,

A man stumbles down

A narrow cobble stone street

In the Seventh,

Staring up at the chiseled embellishments

Of the shadowing buildings,

Which he’s never noted before, thinking,

“Why does it take this kind of a day

to get me to notice, my God,

thou great Snuffleupagus?"

Stumbling down-headed on a

Cobblestone street,

In Paris,

On a warm late-autumn day.

Mirabeau Bridge, Appolinaire

Mirabeau Bridge,
Guillaume Apollinaire, Alcools (1913)

Under Mirabeau Bridge runs the Seine
with all our loves
need I recall
joy always comes after pain

Night rings the hour
days disappear, I remain

Hand in hand let us stand face to face
while under
the bridge of our arms pass
our eternal gaze a weary wave

Night rings the hour
days depart I remain

And love runs like this running water
sure as life drags
sure as hope's violence

Night rings the hour
days depart I remain

Days pass into weeks that pass
Neither times passed
nor my love return
Under Mirabeau Bridge runs the Seine.

Night rings the hour
days depart I remain.

Translation Third-Rate Poet, 2006.

Autumn's Song

Autumn's Song/La Chanson D'Automne by Paul Verlaine

The Long Sobs
Of Autumn's
Violins
Drown my heart
With a torpid
Monotony.

Suffocating
And all pale when
The clock tocks,
I recall
The old days
And I cry.

And I go away
To the windy day
Which takes me
Here and there
Just like a
Falling Leaf.

Translation, Third-Rate Poet