paul éluard

She is standing on my eyelids
And her hair is wound in mine,
She has the form of my hands,
She has the colour of my eyes,
She is swallowed by my shadow
Like a stone against the sky

Her eyes are always open
And will not let me sleep.
Her dreams in broad daylight
Make the suns evaporate
Make me laugh, cry and laugh,
Speak with nothing to say

paul éluard

Liberty

On my school notebooks
On my desk and on the trees
On the sands of snow
I write your name

On the pages I have read
On all the white pages
Stone, blood, paper or ash
I write your name

On the images of gold
On the weapons of the warriors
On the crown of the king
I write your name

On the jungle and the desert
On the nest and on the brier
On the echo of my childhood
I write your name

On all my scarves of blue
On the moist sunlit swamps
On the living lake of moonlight
I write your name

On the fields, on the horizon
On the birds’ wings
And on the mill of shadows
I write your name

On each whiff of daybreak
On the sea, on the boats
On the demented mountaintop
I write your name

On the froth of the cloud
On the sweat of the storm
On the dense rain and the flat
I write your name

On the flickering figures
On the bells of colors
On the natural truth
I write your name

On the high paths
On the deployed routes
On the crowd-thronged square
I write your name

On the lamp which is lit
On the lamp which isn’t
On my reunited thoughts
I write your name

On a fruit cut in two
Of my mirror and my chamber
On my bed, an empty shell
I write your name

On my dog, greathearted and greedy
On his pricked-up ears
On his blundering paws
I write your name

On the latch of my door
On those familiar objects
On the torrents of a good fire
I write your name

On the harmony of the flesh
On the faces of my friends
On each outstretched hand
I write your name

On the window of surprises
On a pair of expectant lips
In a state far deeper than silence
I write your name

On my crumbled hiding-places
On my sunken lighthouses
On my walls and my ennui
I write your name

On abstraction without desire
On naked solitude
On the marches of death
I write your name

And for the want of a word
I renew my life
For I was born to know you
To name you
                            

paul éluard

A vida não é um sonho

De tudo o que disse de mim que resta
Conservei falsos tesouros em armários vazios
Um navio inútil liga a minha infância ao meu fastio...
Os meus jogos ao cansaço
A tempestade ao arco das noites em que estou só
Uma ilha sem animais aos animais que amo
Uma mulher abandonada à mulher sempre nova
Em veia de beleza
A única mulher real
Aqui e em qualquer parte
A oferecer sonhos aos ausentes
Sua mão estendida para mim
Reflecte-se na minha
Digo bom-dia sorrindo
Não se pensa na ignorância
E a ignorância reina
Sim eu tudo esperei
E desesperei de tudo
Da vida do amor do esquecimento do sono
Das forças das fraquezas
Já não me conhecem
Lobos são meu nome e minha sombra.