The Yale Anthology of Twentieth-Century French Poetry

MARGUERITE YOURCENAR

Epitaph in Time of War

A steel sky’s smashed to smithereens
This lovely tender figurine.
—martin sorrell

Daily Papers

Out of a blue heaven, a shower of strontium-90.
Give us this day our daily bread, Lord God Almighty!
—martin sorrell

Poem for a Doll Bought in a Russian Bazaar

Me

I am

Royal blue,

Black with soot.

I am the great Moor

(Petrushka’s rival).

I use night as my troïka;

The sun is my golden balloon.

Almost as vast as the shadowlands

But as fragile as a living person,

The least pu√ moves my invertebrate body.

Very knowledgeable, I am very resigned:

Don’t mock my skin’s darkness nor my gaping lips,

I am, as you are, no more than a puppet held in giant hands.

—martin sorrell