THE HOUSE OF YVES TANGUY by ANDRE BRETON

(Translated by G.O-F. and e.l.t.M)

The house of Yves Tanguy

Where one enters at night

only With the hurricane lamp

Outside the transparent landscape

A seer in his element With the hurricane lamp

With the sawmill too fast to be seen

And the printed cloth of the sky —

Go, chase the supernatural

With the hurricane lamp

With the sawmill too fast to be seen Writh the damned host of stars It is built of lassos,

of down-strokes Colour of boiled crayfish

With the hurricane lamp

With the sawmill too fast to be seen

With the damned host of stars

With escaping trams brought back to their single antennae Bound the space,

reduced the time Ariadne encased in her closet

With the hurricane lamp

With the sawmill too fast

to be seen With the damned host of stars

With escaping trams brought back to their single antennae

With the endless mane of the nautilus Attendance is given by sphinx-moths

Who cover their eyes with linen

With the hurricane lamp

With the sawmill too fast to be seen

With the damned host of stars

With escaping trams brought back to their single antennae

With the endless mane of the nautilus

With the desert’s dazzling furniture There one kills there one cures

Without cover one conspires

With the hurricane lamp

With the sawmill too fast to be seen

With the damned host of stars

With escaping trams brought back to their single antennae

With the endless mane of the nautilus

With the desert’s dazzling furniture

With the signs that lovers exchange from afar

That’s the house of Yves Tanguy.

June 1940

LONDON BULLETIN