The Sun Lets It

To Pablo Picasso

The big white refrigerator in the dark ages

Distributing shivers to the town

Sings to its own self

And its basso continue resembles night

Doing well what it does and teary with the knowledge

One night I was on guard upon a volcano

I noiselessly opened the door of a small room and leaped

at the feet of laggardness

I thought it so beautiful and ready to obey me

It was naught but a spoke of the veiled wheel

In the corridor of death she leaned on me

Burnt wines never enlightened us

My dear was too far away from the auroras circling

around an arctic lamp

In my thousandth youth

I seduced that shining torpedo

We looked at the unbelievable and believed it in spite of

ourselves

As one day I took the woman I loved

We made light happy

It injected its thigh before me

Love is a trefoil I've added artificially the fourth leaf to

The dogdays caress me

Like dropping birds

In shadow there is light in this light are two shadows

The cigarette smoker fixes the last touch upon his work

He’s looking for unity of himself and the landscape

He is a shiver of the big refrigerator

André Breton