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Le Pont Mirabeau


Under Eads Bridge over the Mississippi at Saint Louis
Flows the Seine

And our past loves.
Do I really have to remember all that again

And remember
Joy came only after so much pain?

Hand in hand, face to face,
Let the belfry softly bong the late hour.

Nights go by. Days go by.
I'm alive. I'm here. I'm in flower.

The days go by. But I'm still here. In full flower.
Let night come. Let the hour chime on the mantel.

Love goes away the way this river flows away.
How violently flowers fade. How awfully slow life is.

How violently a flower fades. How violent our hopes are.
The days pass and the weeks pass.

The past does not return, nor do past loves.
Under the Pont Mirabeau flows the Seine.

Hand in hand, standing face to face,
Under the arch of the bridge our outstretched arms make

Flows our appetite for life away from us downstream,
And our dream

Of getting back our love of life again.
Under the Pont Mirabeau flows the Seine.


Guillaume Apollinaire

The Paris Review

Winter 2012


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