On Sundays I have breakfast with oranges and... GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE

From red to green all the yellow dies
When macaws sing in the native woods
Filled with pihis
There's a poem to be made about the bird that has only one wing
We'll send it as a phone message
Giant trauma
Makes the eyes capsize
Here's a pretty girl among the young Turinese girls
The poor boy wiping his nose with his white tie
You will lift the curtain
And now behold the window opens
Spiders when hands wove the light
Beauty pallor unfathomable violets
We'll try in vain to find rest
We'll start at midnight
When you have time you have freedom
Snails Lampreys multiple Suns and the Hedgehog of the west
An old pair of yellow stockings in front of the window
Towers
The towers are the streets
Wells
Wells are the squares
Wells
Hollow trees that shelter the vagabond mulattoes
Rams sing airs till they die
To the brown sheep
And the goose goose trumpets to the north
Where the mouse hunters
Gnaw in the fur shops
Diamond sparkling
Vancouver
Where the white train of snow and night fires flees from winterOh Paris
From red to green all the yellow dies
Paris Vancouver Hyères Maintenon Noeva York and the West IndiesThe window opens like an orange orange
The beautiful fruit of light

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