Comments & Greek artists, Greek painters: Autumn ill and adored...

Poets & Greek artists, modern Greek artists


Yannis Stavrou, Autmn Landscape, oil on canvas

Guillaume Apollinaire

Autumn III
(Alcools: Automne malade)

Autumn ill and adored

You die when the hurricane blows in the roseries

When it has snowed

In the orchard trees

Poor autumn

Dead in whiteness and riches

Of snow and ripe fruits

Deep in the sky

The sparrow hawks cry

Over the sprites with green hair the dwarfs

Who’ve never been loved

In the far tree-lines

the stags are groaning

And how I love O season how I love your rumbling

The falling fruits that no one gathers

The wind the forest that are tumbling

All their tears in autumn leaf by leaf

The leaves

You press

A crowd

That flows

The life

That goes

Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918)

Automne malade

Automne malade et adoré
Tu mourras quand l'ouragan soufflera dans les roseraies
Quand il aura neigé
Dans les vergers

Pauvre automne
Meurs en blancheur et en richesse
De neige et de fruits mûrs
Au fond du ciel
Des éperviers planent
Sur les nixes nicettes aux cheveux verts et naines
Qui n'ont jamais aimé

Aux lisières lointaines
Les cerfs ont bramé

Et que j'aime ô saison que j'aime tes rumeurs
Les fruits tombant sans qu'on les cueille
Le vent et la forêt qui pleurent
Toutes leurs larmes en automne feuille à feuille
Les feuilles
Qu'on foule
Un train
Qui roule
La vie

Comments & Greek artists, modern Greek artists: without artists, men would soon weary of nature's monotony...

Poets & Greek artists, Greek painters, modern Greek painters


Yannis Stavrou, Red Ships, oil on canvas

Without poets, without artists, men would soon weary of nature's monotony.

Artists are, above all, men who want to become inhuman.

I love men, not for what unites them, but for what divides them, and I want to know most of all what gnaws at their hearts.

It's raining my soul, it's raining, but it's raining dead eyes.

Joy always came after pain.

One can't carry one's father's corpse about everywhere.

When man wanted to make a machine that would walk he created the wheel, which does not resemble a leg.


Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918)

Guillaume Apollinaire

The Farewell
(Alcools: L’Adieu)

I’ve gathered this sprig of heather

Autumn is dead you will remember

On earth we’ll see no more of each other

Fragrance of time sprig of heather

Remember I wait for you forever

L' Adieu

J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère

L'automne est morte souviens-t'en

Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre

Odeur du temps brin de bruyère

Et souviens-toi que je t'attends

Twilight
(Alcools: Crépuscule)

Brushed by the shadows of the dead

On the grass where day expires

Columbine strips bare admires

her body in the pond instead

A charlatan of twilight formed

Boasts of the tricks to be performed

The sky without a stain unmarred

Is studded with the milk-white stars

From the boards pale Harlequin

First salutes the spectators

Sorcerers from Bohemia

Fairies sundry enchanters

Having unhooked a star

He proffers it with outstretched hand

While with his feet a hanging man

Sounds the cymbals bar by bar

The blind man rocks a pretty child

The doe with all her fauns slips by

The dwarf observes with saddened pose

How Harlequin magically grows