THE TREES
( Guillaume Apollinaire )
firs in pointed caps
long gowns lined
As astrologers
greet their brothers slaughtered
Boats sail on the Rhine
Within seven arts indoctrinated
For older trees older
Who are the great poets
They know they are predestined
A shine brighter than the planets
A shining gently changed
star and snowy
For Christmas
blessed Christmas trees ensongés
For long branches languorous
The fir fine musicians
sing carols old
Windward autumn evenings
Or serious magicians
Incantent the sky when it thunders
Rows of white cherubs
Replaces winter firs
And swing their wings
summer they are great rabbis
Or old ladies
doctors wandering Trees
They are offering their good ointments
When the mountain gave birth
From time to time under Hurricane
An old tree groans and goes to bed.
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