Guillaume Apollinaire
Above Paris one day
Two great planes fought
One was red and the other black
While at the zenith blazed
The eternal solar plane
One was all my youth
And the other was the future
They fought each other with rage
Thus did
the Archangel with radiant wings against Lucifer
Thus did the calculation to the problem
Thus night against day
Thus attacks what I love
My love thus the hurricane
Uproots the tree that cries
But see what sweetness everywhere
Paris like a young girl
Awakens languidly
Shakes her long hair
And sings her beautiful song
Where has my youth fallen
You see that the future is blazing
Know that I speak today
To announce to the whole world
That at last the art of prediction has been born
Some men are hills
Who rise up among men
And see the whole future in the distance
Better than if it were the present
Clearer than if it had passed
Ornament of times and roads
Passes and lasts without stopping
Let the serpents sibilate
In vain against the south wind
The Psylli and the wave have perished
Order of time if the machines
Finally began to think
On the beaches of precious stones
Golden waves would break
The foam would be a mother Even
lower than man go the eagles
It is he who brings joy to the seas
As he dissipates in the air
The shadow and the dizzying spleens
Where the mind joins the dream
Here is the time of magic
It is coming back expect
Billions of wonders
Yes have not given birth to any fable
No one having imagined them
Depths of consciousness
You will be explored tomorrow
And who knows what living beings
Will be drawn from these abysses
With entire universes
Here are prophets rising
Like blue hills in the distance
They will know precise things
As scientists believe they know
And will transport us everywhere
The great force is desire
And come let me kiss you on the forehead
O light as a flame
Whose you have all the suffering
All the ardor and all the brilliance
The age comes we will study
All that it is to suffer
It will not becourage
nor even renunciation
Nor all that we can do
We will search in man himself
Much more than we have searched there
We will scrutinize his will
And what force will be born from it
Without machine and without instrument
The helpful spirits wander
Interpenetrating among us
Since the times that join us
Nothing ends there, nothing begins there
Look at the ring on your finger
Time of deserts of crossroads
Time of squares and hills
I come here to do tricks
Where a talisman plays its role
Dead and more subtle than life
I have finally detached myself
From all natural things
I can die but not sin
And what has never been touched
I have touched it, I have felt it
And I have scrutinized everything that no one
Can imagine in any way
And I have weighed many times
Even imponderable life
I can die smiling
Very often I have hovered so high
So high that farewell to all things
The strangeness the ghosts
And I no longer want to admire
This boy who mimes terror
Youth farewell jasmine of time
I breathed your fresh perfume
In Rome on the flowery floats
Loaded with masks of garlands
And the bells of the carnival
Farewell youth white Christmas
When life was only a star
Whose reflection I contemplated
In the Mediterranean Sea
More pearly than meteors
Downy like a nest of archangels
Or the garland of clouds
And more lustrous than halos
Emanations and splendors
Unique sweetness harmonies
I stop to look
On the incandescent lawn
A serpent wanders it is myself
Who am the flute I play
And the whip that chastises others
There comes a time for suffering
There comes a time for kindness
Youth farewell here is the time
When we will know the future
Without dying from its knowledge
It is the time of ardent grace
Will alone will act
Seven years of incredible trials
Man will become divine
Purer, more lively and more learned
He will discover other worlds
The spirit languishes like the flowers
Whose the tasty fruits are born
That we will watch ripen
On the sunny hill
I say what life really is
Only I could sing like this
My songs fall like seeds
Be silent, all you who sing
Don’t mix the chaff with the wheat
A ship came into the harbor
A large ship decked out with flags
But we found no one there
Except a beautiful and rosy woman
She lay there murdered
Another time I was begging
They gave me only a flame
With which I was burned to the lips
And I could not say thank you
Torch that nothing can extinguish
Where are you, oh my friend
Who returned so well into yourself
That only an abyss remained
Where I threw myself
To the colorless depths
And I hear my steps coming back
Along the paths that no one
has traveled I hear my steps
At all hours they pass there
Slow or hurried they come or go
Winter you who shave
It’s snowing and I am unhappy
I have crossed the splendid sky
Where life is music
The ground is too white for my eyes
Get used
to these wonders like me that I announce
To the goodness that will reign
To the suffering that I endure
And you will know the future
It is from suffering and goodness
That beauty will be made
More perfect than that
Which came from proportions
It snows and I burn and I tremble
Now I am at my table
I write what I felt
And what I sang up there
A slender tree that sways
The wind whose hair flies away
A top hat is on
A table loaded with fruit
The gloves are dead near an apple
A lady twists her neck
Near a gentleman who swallows himself
The ball swirls in the depths of time
I killed the handsome conductor
And I peel for my friends
The orange whose flavor is
A marvelous fireworks
All are dead the head waiter
Pours them an unreal champagne
Which foams like a snail
Or like a poet’s brain
While a rose sang
The slave holds a naked sword
Similar to springs and rivers
And each time she
A universe is torn apart
From which new worlds emerge
The driver holds on to the steering wheel
And each time on the road
He honks as he passes the bend
It appears as far as the eye can see
A universe still virgin
And the third number is thelady
She gets into the elevator
She rises, rises always
And the light unfolds
And these luminaries transfigure her
But these are small secrets
There are others deeper
Which will soon be revealed
And make a hundred pieces of you
To the thought always unique
But cry, cry and weep again
And whether the moon is full
Or whether it has only a crescent
Ah! cry, cry and weep again
We laughed so much in the sun
Golden arms support life
Penetrate the golden secret
All is but a rapid flame
That the adorable rose blooms
And from which rises an exquisite perfume
© by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
You may find this and other poems here.
Analysis (AI Assisted)
This war poem is dense and surreal, combining themes of disillusionment, identity, loss, and a fragmented perception of time. Its tone oscillates between the personal and the universal, often shifting unexpectedly between the physical world and abstract, metaphysical reflections. At its core, the poem is an exploration of internal conflict and external chaos, framed within the context of war but also extending far beyond it, touching on spiritual, existential, and historical questions.
The opening images of two suns—the one in the sky and the one in the speaker’s chest—evoke a strong sense of duality. The poem sets up a contrast between the internal and external worlds, creating an ongoing tension between personal experience and the wider conflict. This juxtaposition of the physical and spiritual begins to emerge in the lines, where the speaker’s body—described as a “cleat of dreams” and “a fruit of innumerable conflicting grafts”—seems to grapple with the realities of war while also contemplating broader metaphysical concepts. The speaker’s position as a witness to war becomes both a form of spiritual reflection and physical disintegration.
The poem’s frequent references to natural imagery, such as “autumn clouds” and “mountain streams,” suggest that the speaker is aware of the fleeting beauty of life, even amid the violence and destruction of war. These moments of serenity and peace are undercut by the harshness of the surrounding environment, both literal and metaphorical. The contrast of “the eternal solar plane” and the looming destruction echoes the tension between innocence and experience, the past and the present. The soldier’s personal recollections of moments of beauty, such as the sun setting over a peaceful scene, are drowned out by the roar of battle.
The poem repeatedly touches on the theme of time, specifically the tension between past, present, and future. The speaker reflects on how their identity has been altered by war and how the world has changed. The line “I have relived the stages of my life,” conveys a sense of time both lost and cyclic, while the refrain “the future is blazing” underscores the intensity and immediacy of war, which robs the speaker of both the past and the future. This creates a haunting sense of inevitability and predestination, where the speaker’s death feels not just likely but almost predestined.
Another powerful aspect of the poem is the recurring motif of “death” and “suffering,” which frames the speaker’s reflections. The speaker not only grapples with their own mortality but contemplates the larger existential pain of humankind, stating that “I can die smiling.” This sentiment reflects the profound resignation that many soldiers experience, realizing that they are both victims and participants in the chaos. The poem captures the overwhelming nature of war, which is depicted as something that both destroys and reshapes individuals on a fundamental level.
The speaker’s struggle with love and memory is also prominent in the poem. In the lines “Where has my youth fallen / You see that the future is blazing,” the speaker looks back at their own past, filled with youthful hopes and dreams, now overshadowed by the grim realities of war. Their search for meaning in this new world of loss and violence is shaped by memories that are increasingly out of reach, like the fading scent of jasmine or the fleeting beauty of a sunset.
Overall, the poem is marked by its elliptical, fragmented structure, mirroring the speaker’s fractured state of mind and the larger disorientation of war. The mix of concrete imagery and abstract reflection creates a sense of emotional disarray, reflecting the trauma experienced by soldiers in both the physical and psychological realms. The speaker’s journey through the poem is one of introspection and bewilderment, as they attempt to reconcile their experiences with their fading sense of self.