Apollinaire
Apollinaire was an innovative French poet, trying to break from the conventions of his time. He was born in Rome of a Polish mother. His friend Picasso used to joke about his father being the pope, but he grew up and lived in Paris. He was an important figure in the development of Futurism, Cubism, Dadaism, and Surrealism. His poem 1909 is an important illustration of his style. Set during the belle époque, it deals with the poet’s ambivalence about his times, with one foot in pessimism and the other in optimism. On the one hand the symbolic woman has a face like the French tricolor, with blue eyes, white teeth and very red lips. The poet is attracted to her, but is in awe of her too. However, his admiration for those women who work hard for a living, moving heavy machinery, is without reserve. Line 14 refers to Cinderella’s dread of midnight. His fascination for the new genres he helped developing did not stop him writing the very traditional Sur le pont Mirabeau, which has been very popular with French singers. I include two of his best known poems and my translations.
1909
La dame avait une robe
En ottoman violine
Et sa tunique brodée d’or
Était composée de deux panneaux
S’attachant sur l’épaule
Les yeux dansants comme des anges
Elle riait elle riait
Elle avait un visage aux couleurs de France
Les yeux bleus les dents blanches et les lèvres très rouges
Elle avait un visage aux couleurs de France
Elle était décolletée en rond
Et coiffée à la Récamier
Avec de beaux bras nus
N’entendra-t-on jamais sonner minuit
La dame en robe d’ottoman violine
Et en tunique brodée d’or
Décolletée en rond
Promenait ses boucles
Son bandeau d’or
Et traînait ses petits souliers à boucles
Elle était si belle
Que tu n’aurais pas osé l’aimer
J’aimais les femmes atroces dans les quartiers énormes
Où naissaient chaque jour quelques êtres nouveaux
Le fer était leur sang la flamme leur cerveau
J’aimais j’aimais le peuple habile des machines
Le luxe et la beauté ne sont que son écume
Cette femme était si belle
Qu’elle me faisait peur
-
1909
The lady wore a gown
In thick ottoman violet fabric
Gold- embroidered was her tunic
Made of two panels
Tied to her shoulders
Her eyes like angels were dancing
She could not stop laughing
Her face was of the French tricolor
Blue eyes, white teeth and very red lips
She had a face in the colours of France
She had a round plunging neckline
And a Récamier hairdo
With two uncovered arms
Will we even hear the twelve strokes of midnight?
The lady in the violet ottoman fabric
And the embroidered tunic
With the plunging neckline
Was taking her curls for a walk
Her golden bandeau
Dragging her little shoes with the buckles
She was so handsome, so awesome
You wouldn’t have dared come near
I loved formidable women in their massive slums
Where daily new beings come into existence
With iron in their blood and fire in their brains
Oh how I’ve loved the people toiling with machines
Luxury and beauty are nothing but the foam
That lady was so handsome
That I was in awe of her
***
Le pont Mirabeau
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu’il m’en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine
Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure
Les jours s’en vont je demeure
Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
Tandis que sous
Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l’onde si lasse
Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure
Les jours s’en vont je demeure
L’amour s’en va comme cette eau courante
L’amour s’en va
Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l’Espérance est violente
Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure
Les jours s’en vont je demeure
Passent les jours et passent les semaines
Ni temps passé
Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure
Les jours s’en vont je demeure
_
The Mirabeau bridge
Under the Pont Mirabeau the Seine flows
As does our love
Remember when you’re prey to woes
Happiness is the heir to sorrows
Cometh the night ringeth the chimes
Days go by but I’m for all times
Hand in hand we stay face to face
Whilst under
Our entwined arms race
Weary waves of eternal grace
Cometh the night ringeth the chimes
Days go by but I’m for all times
Love walks on by like this river flows
Love walks on by
How the course of life is slow
And how Hope and Life come to blows
Cometh the night ringeth the chimes
Days go by but I’m for all times
Days whizz by and weeks too God knows …
Neither times now gone
Nor love ever return I suppose
Cometh the night ringeth the chimes
Days go by but I’m for all times
