Contrasts

The windows of my poetry are wide open on the boulevards and in the shop windows

Shine

The precious stones of light

Listen to the violins of the limousines and the xylophones of the linotypes

The sketcher washes with the hand-towel of the sky

All is color spots

And the hats of the women passing by are comets in the conflagration of the evening


Unity

There's no more unity

All the clocks now read midnight after being set back ten minutes

There's no more time.

There's no more money.

In the Chamber

They are spoiling the marvelous elements of raw material

("Contrasts")

Auteur: Blaise Cendrars