Andre Breton

(19 February 1896 – 28 September 1966 / Normandy)

Freedom Of Love - Poem by Andre Breton

(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti)

My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
With the waist of an hourglass
With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger
My wife with the lips of a cockade and of a bunch of stars of the last magnitude
With the teeth of tracks of white mice on the white earth
With the tongue of rubbed amber and glass
My wife with the tongue of a stabbed host
With the tongue of a doll that opens and closes its eyes
With the tongue of an unbelievable stone
My wife with the eyelashes of strokes of a child's writing
With brows of the edge of a swallow's nest
My wife with the brow of slates of a hothouse roof
And of steam on the panes
My wife with shoulders of champagne
And of a fountain with dolphin-heads beneath the ice
My wife with wrists of matches
My wife with fingers of luck and ace of hearts
With fingers of mown hay
My wife with armpits of marten and of beechnut
And of Midsummer Night
Of privet and of an angelfish nest
With arms of seafoam and of riverlocks
And of a mingling of the wheat and the mill
My wife with legs of flares
With the movements of clockwork and despair
My wife with calves of eldertree pith
My wife with feet of initials
With feet of rings of keys and Java sparrows drinking
My wife with a neck of unpearled barley
My wife with a throat of the valley of gold
Of a tryst in the very bed of the torrent
With breasts of night
My wife with breasts of a marine molehill
My wife with breasts of the ruby's crucible
With breasts of the rose's spectre beneath the dew
My wife with the belly of an unfolding of the fan of days
With the belly of a gigantic claw
My wife with the back of a bird fleeing vertically
With a back of quicksilver
With a back of light
With a nape of rolled stone and wet chalk
And of the drop of a glass where one has just been drinking
My wife with hips of a skiff
With hips of a chandelier and of arrow-feathers
And of shafts of white peacock plumes
Of an insensible pendulum
My wife with buttocks of sandstone and asbestos
My wife with buttocks of swans' backs
My wife with buttocks of spring
With the sex of an iris
My wife with the sex of a mining-placer and of a platypus
My wife with a sex of seaweed and ancient sweetmeat
My wife with a sex of mirror
My wife with eyes full of tears
With eyes of purple panoply and of a magnetic needle
My wife with savanna eyes
My wife with eyes of water to he drunk in prison
My wife with eyes of wood always under the axe
My wife with eyes of water-level of level of air earth and fire


Comments about Freedom Of Love by Andre Breton

  • * Sunprincess * (2/11/2016 5:38:00 PM)

    ..........actually never read a poet who described his wife as this before...most intriguing ★ (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (1/21/2016 6:40:00 AM)

    IN ITALIAN:
    _________

    'La mia donna: capelli di fuoco di legna'

    La mia donna: capelli di fuoco di legna
    Pensieri di lampi di calore
    Vita di clessidra
    La mia donna: vita di lontra tra i denti della tigre
    La mia donna: bocca da coccarda e fascio di stelle
    di ultima grandezza
    Denti a impronta di topo bianco sulla terra bianca
    Lingua d'ambra e vetro lucidati
    La mia donna: lingua d'ostia trafitta
    Lingua di bambola che apre e chiude gli occhi
    Lingua di pietra incredibile
    La mia donna: ciglia di aste di scrittura infantile
    Sopracciglia a bordo di nido di rondine
    La mia donna: tempie d'ardesia di tetto di serra
    Vapore sui vetri
    La mia donna: spalle di champagne
    Fontana con teste di delfini sotto ghiaccio
    La mia donna: polsi di fiammiferi
    La mia donna: dita d'azzardo e d'asso di cuori
    Dita di fieno tagliato
    La mia donna: ascelle di martora e faggiola
    Notte di San Giovanni
    Ligustro e nido di scalari
    Braccia di schiuma marina e di chiusa
    Miscuglio di grano e mulino
    La mia donna: gambe di missile
    Movimenti d'orologeria e disperazione
    La mia donna: polpacci di midollo di sambuco
    La mia donna: piedi a iniziale
    Piedi a mazzi di chiavi, piedi di calafati che bevono
    La mia donna: collo d'orzo imperlato
    La mia donna: gola di Val d'Or
    Appuntamenti persino nel letto del torrente
    Seni notturni
    La mia donna: seni di monticelli di talpa marina
    La mia donna: seni di crogiolo di rubini
    Seni di spettro della rosa rugiadosa
    La mia donna: ventre spiegato di ventaglio dei giorni
    Ventre d'artiglio gigante
    La mia donna: schiena d'uccello che fugge verticale
    Schiena d'argento vivo
    Schiena di luce
    Nuca a sasso levigato e gesso bagnato
    Caduta di bicchiere nel quale si è bevuto
    La mia donna: anche di navicella
    Anche a lampadario e penne di freccia
    Nervature di piume di pavone bianco
    Bilancia insensibile
    La mia donna: natica di arenaria e amianto
    La mia donna: natica a dorso di cigno
    La mia donna: natica primaverile
    Sesso di gladiolo
    La mia donna: sesso di giacimento aurifero e di ornitorinco
    La mia donna: sesso d'alga e vecchie caramelle
    La mia donna: sesso di specchio
    La mia donna: occhi pieni di lacrime
    Occhi di panoplia violetta e ago magnetizzato
    La mia donna: occhi di savana
    La mia donna: occhi d'acqua da bere in prigione
    La mia donna: occhi di legno sempre sotto l'ascia
    Occhi dei livelli d'acqua d'aria di terra e fuoco


    André Breton (Report) Reply

  • Dutendra Chamling Dutendra Chamling (11/12/2015 4:33:00 AM)

    Andre Breton has wonderful language for poem. (Report) Reply

  • * Sunprincess * (6/20/2014 7:46:00 PM)

    ..............only poets describe their wife so beautifully....enjoyed... (Report) Reply

  • Michelle Claus Michelle Claus (6/20/2014 2:09:00 PM)

    I'm titillated by the similes in this lascivious poem of adulation. With that said, it is difficult for any young or aging woman to live up to the idealized beauty into which Andre Breton and other poets cast her, but the woman-worship is creature-natural and appreciated. What would a poem sound like if it were written about a silver-haired 60-year-old, who has been through pregnancies, surgeries, etc.? An 80-year-old woman? An infirm woman? The fire-breathing exultation becomes tiresome for me to read, and, like a youthful love tune reverberating throughout the day's pop culture, I turn away in search of something else. (Report) Reply

  • Gajanan Mishra Gajanan Mishra (6/20/2013 7:43:00 AM)

    Really good, I like it, wife means fire wood, wood fire. (Report) Reply

  • Tim Stensloff Tim Stensloff (6/20/2012 12:54:00 PM)

    It's good to see Andre Breton get a feature as 'Modern Poem of the Day.' (Report) Reply

  • Warren Falcon Warren Falcon (6/20/2012 12:36:00 PM)

    Poor Mrs. Breton! but, hey, she married a surrealist...a surrealist love poem by Andre Breton. One can't help but wonder what Mrs. Breton would write of Andre's sex! LOL...hmmm...I may have to pretend to be Mrs. Breton & write a response poem! (Report) Reply

  • Emma Young (9/20/2005 6:42:00 PM)

    I've read other translations of this poem, and the one give here is pretty bad. There are places where the language seem childish, I dont think this is the way Breton intended it. There are even typos. Come on. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: tiger, water, mirror, fire, purple, despair, freedom, spring, rose, hair, child, night, light, children, star



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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