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
