Paul Éluard

Translated by Peter Robertson

An Apologia for Knowledge VI

That night the most credulous eyes
would deny to the point of futility,
That night with nothing left to cling to,
The solitary stare impaled on the blot of ink.

Closer to Us

Run, run to deliverance
and you will find that all is there,
and gather up its infinite wealth,
running so fast the cord will snap
at the sound a huge bird makes as it soars
into the ether, the flag a speck.