UMBRA

You there anew close to me

Souvenirs of my companions dead at the war

Olive of time

Souvenirs which make no more than one

Like a hundred furs make not than one coat

Like these thousand wounds make not than one article in the journal

Appearance impalpable and somber who have comprised

The form changing of my umbra

An Indian at the lookout during eternity

Umbra you crawl close to me

But you attend me no more

You will know no more the poems divine that I chant

Whereas me I attend you I see you once more

Destinies

Umbra multiple that the sun guards you

You who love me enough in order never to quit me

And who dance at the sun without making dust

Umbra ink of the sun

Text of my light

Caisson of regret

A god who humiliates himself

Apollinaire, “Ombre,” from Calligrammes: Poems of Peace and War, 1913–1916