Memories

Two nigger brown lakes

Amidst a forest

And a drying dress

Mouth open above a harmonium

A voice it was all made of eyes

Whilst folk of humble means lolled about

A very little old lady with a pointy nose

I admire the hot water bottle in blue enamel

But the rat gets inside the corpse and stays there

A gentleman in shirtsleeves

Shaves by the window

Whilst singing a little song he hardly knows

It makes a whole opera

You who turn unto the king

Does God wish to die again

Guillaume Apollinaire