The Crocuses

The meadow is lethal though lovely in autumn
The cows grazing there
Are slowly poisoned
The crocus its color like circles under eyes like lilacs
Blooms there your eyes are like that flower
Violet like their circles and like autumn
And for your eyes' sake my life’s slowly poisoned

School children come making a fracas
Dressed in jackets playing harmonicas
They pick the crocuses that seem like mothers
Daughters of their daughters and colored like your lashes
That flutter as flowers flutter in a crazy breeze

The guardian of that flock sings sweetly
While slowly and lowing the cows leave
Forever that meadow autumn made bloom evilly

Apollinaire
translation by Jack Hayes
© 2010