The work of the painter
Pablo Picasso
Surround this lemon with shapeless egg-white,
coat this egg-white in a supple and fine azure.
However much the straight and black line comes from you
the dawn is behind your painting.
And the countless walls crumble
behind your painting, and you, your eye fixed
like a blind man, like a mad man,
you stand a tall sword in the emptiness
A hand, why not a second hand,
and why not the mouth naked like a feather.
Why not a smile and why not tears right at
the edge of the canvas where the little nails are playing.
Here is the the day of others give the shadows a chance,
and in just one movement of the eyelids renounce.
Marc Chagall
Donkey or cow, cock or horse
even the skin of a violin
a singing man a single bird
an agile dancer with his wife
a couple drenched in its springtime
the gold of the grass the lead of the skies
separated by the blue flames
of health of dew
the blood glistens the heart tolls
a couple the first reflection
and in an underground cavern of snow
the opulent vine draws
a face with moon-like lips
which has never slept at night.
Georges Braque
A bird flies away,
he throws off the clouds like a pointless veil,
he has never feared light,
enclosed in his flight,
he has never had a shadow.
Husks of the harvest, split by the sun.
All the leaves in the woods say yes,
they can only say yes,
every question, every reply
and the dew runs in the depth of this yes.
A man with flitting eyes describes the heaven of love.
He gathers together its marvels
like leaves in a wood,
like birds in their wings
and men in sleep.
Juan Gris
By day give thanks by night beware
of gentleness half the world
the other showed blind severity
a present without mercy was being read to the veins
the limited space cemented all the joints of the
every-day objects to the beauty of the contours
table guitar and empty glass
on an acre of rich earth
of white canvas of nocturnal air
table had to support itself
lamp to remain the pip of the shadow
newspaper abandoning one half of itself
twice by day twice by night
of two objects a double object
a single whole once and for all.
Paul Klee
On the fatal slope the traveller benefits from the
favour of the day, iced over and without gravel,
and the eyes blue with love, finds out his season
which wears on all its fingers great stars as rings.
On the beach the sea has left its ears
and the gouged sand site of some handsome crime.
The torture is harder on the torturer than on the victims.
The knives are omens and the bullets are tears.
Joan Miró
Sun of prey prisoner of my head,
remove the hill, remove the forest.
The sky is more beautiful than ever.
The dragonflies of the grapes
give it definite shapes
which I dissipate with a single gesture.
Clouds of the first day,
unfeeling clouds which nothing sanctions,
their seeds burn
in the straw fires of my glances.
At the end, to cover itself with a dawn
the sky will need to be as pure as the night.
Jacques Villon
Irremediable life
life to be always cherished
despite scourges
and base morals
despite false stars
and invading ashes
despite grating fevers
stomach-high crimes
withered breasts stupid brows
despite deadly suns
despite dead gods
despite lies
the dawn, the horizon, water
bird man love
man light-hearted and good
softening the soil,
clearing the woods
illuminating the stone
and the nocturnal rose
and the blood of the crowd.
