Je ne vous aime pas, c’est dit, je vous déteste,
Je vous crains comme on craint l’enfer, de peur du feu ;
Comme on craint le typhus, le choléra, la peste,
Je vous hais à la mort, madame ; mais, mon Dieu !
Expliquez-moi pourquoi je pleure, quand je reste
Deux jours sans vous parler et sans vous voir un peu.
Ok, I’m going to explain those poems like the girl I am – a sucker for anything a bit teasing and romantic.
And oh my my, Alphonse is a master of that.
Yeah, we’re on a first-name basis him and I.
Let me translate this poem for you. (This is a literal translation so you can appreciate the details of the French version)
I don’t love you, it is said, I hate you,
I am scared of you like I am scared of hell, out of fear for fire ;
Like you are scared of typhus, the cholera, the plague,
I have you to death Madame, but oh my god!
Explain to me why I cry, when I stay
Two days without talking to you, and without seeing you so much.
Célimène is a lucky girl if you ask me! 🥰
Also, hellooooo 10 Things I Hate About You…
Lou si je meurs là-bas souvenir qu’on oublie
— Souviens-t’en quelquefois aux instants de folie
De jeunesse et d’amour et d’éclatante ardeur —
Mon sang c’est la fontaine ardente du bonheur
Et sois la plus heureuse étant la plus jolie
Picture the scene, a thirty-something poet is in the trenches – during the first world war.
It’s cold. It stinks of death. In fact, everyone he knows is dying around him. Maybe tomorrow, it will be his turn… This makes him sad, not because he is going to die, but because his love might forget him.
Look at it.
Lou, if I die there like a memory that we forget
And be the happiest being the prettiest
Awwwww. Told you you should have grabbed the tissues!
PS: Apollinaire in fact died of the Spanish flu. So yay?
This content was originally published here.