francis picabia
HUNTING HORNS
Our history is noble and tragic
Like the mask of a tyrant
No drama with danger and magic
No detail indifferent
Can make our love pathetic
And Thomas de Quincey drinking
Opium sweet and pure poison
Dreaming continually of his poor Anne
Let us pass let us pass as everything passes
I will return often
Memories are hunting horns
Whose sound dies away with the wind
----Guillaume Apollinaire
tr TJ Worthington
guillaume apollinaire
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