Hotels Poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
Hotels
The room is free
Each for himself
A new arrival
Pays by the month
The boss is doubtful
Whether you’ll pay
Like a top
I spin on the way
The traffic noise
My neighbour gross
Who puffs an acrid
English smoke
O La Vallière
Who limps and smiles
In my prayers
The bedside table
And all the company
in this hotel
know the languages
of Babel
Let’s shut our doors
With a double lock
And each adore
his lonely love
A very realistic tableau of staying a night in a hotel. To me, brilliant.
Let’s shut our doors With a double lock And each adore his lonely love /// let's enjoy the super love in the locked room!
This poem reminds me of the title of Bukowski's early collection ROOMING HOUSE MADRIGALS. What is the secret connection between poetry and flophouses? I don't know, but if you serve the Muse and she leads you into an unsettled life, you may have sweet moments despite the rough conditions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/22/2024 11:33:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Hotel rooms are there! ! Free to be rented! Waiting for visitors. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.