Poems by Jacques Prévert

Poet and screenwriter, born sunday february 4, 1900 in Neuilly-sur-Seine (France), died monday april 11, 1977 in Omonville-la-Petite (France)
You can find this author also in Quotes & Aphorisms.

Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
Demons and Wonders
Winds and Tides
Yet in the distance the sea has withdrawn
Demons and Wonders
Winds and Tides
And you
Like a seaweed the wind gently caresses
In the sands of your bed you're
moving dreaming
Demons and Wonders
Winds and Tides
Yet in the distance the sea has withdrawn
But in your half-opened eyes
Two small waves staid
Demons and Wonders
Winds and Tides
Two small waves to drown myself.
Jacques Prévert
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    Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
    Remember Barbara
    It rained endlessly on Brest on that day
    And you walked smiling
    Radiant enchanted dripping-wet
    In the rain
    Remember Barbara
    It was raining endlessly on Brest
    And I came across you in the Rue de Siam
    You were smiling
    And I smiled the same
    Remember Barbara
    You whom I did not know
    You who did not know me
    Remember even though that very day
    Forget not
    A man, under a porch, was sheltering
    And he called your name
    And you ran towards him in the rain
    Dripping-wet enchanted radiant
    And you threw yourself into his arms
    Remember that, Barbara
    And do not resent it if I call you: "tu"
    I say "tu" to everyone I love
    Even if I have seen them only once
    I say" tu" to all who love each other
    Even if I do not know them
    Remember Barbara
    Forget not
    The quiet and happy rain
    Hereon your happy face
    Hereon the happy town
    The rain hereon the merry sea
    On the arsenal
    On the shuttle boat to Ushant
    Oh Barbara
    What a bloody farce the war
    What's become of you now
    In the rain of iron
    Of fire, of steel of blood
    And the one who clasped you in his arms
    Is he now dead, missing, or still alive
    Oh Barbara
    It's raining endlessly on Brest
    As it rained before
    But now it is not the same, and all set abased
    It is a rain of mourning, terrible and desolate
    Now it is even no longer the storm
    Of iron, of steel of blood
    Merely clouds
    That go coma like dogs
    Dogs that go missing
    Along the current over Brest
    And will go pouring in the far
    In the very far away from Brest
    Of which there is nothing left.
    Jacques Prévert
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      Three matches one by one struck in the night
      The first to see your face in its entirety
      The second to see your eyes
      The last to see your mouth
      And the darkness all around to remind me of all these
      As I hold you in my arms.
      Jacques Prévert
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