G. Apollinaire – Vendémiaire

How gorgeous was Paris toward the end of September

Each night became a vine whose leaves

Spread brightness over the city above

Ripe stars nibbled by the drunken birds

Of my fame awaited dawn’s harvest

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G. Apollinaire – The Emigrant from Landor Road

Swell towards night O Sea The sharks’ eyes
Even till dawn have relished from afar
Days’ carcasses gnawed by stars
Amidst the noise of the waves and the last oaths

Gonfle-toi vers la nuit Ô Mer Les yeux des squales
Jusqu’à l’aube ont guetté de loin avidement
Des cadavres de jours rongés par les étoiles
Parmi le bruit des flots et les derniers serments

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R. Bolano – 2666

If it were possible to convey what one feels when night falls and the stars come out and one is alone in the vastness, and life’s truths (night truths) begin to march past one by one, somehow swooning or as if the person out in the open were swooning or as if a strange sickness were circulating in the blood unnoticed.

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