Untitled work by Il Renaud


I’ve been rummaging through my old poetry collection and I found this gem. Written by a French poet named Il Renaud, it’s translated by one Stephen Bouille. I can’t find much information about Renaud, which is a shame since I’ve picked up some French and I’d love to see the original. -Cory

I mounted the extremities of glaciers the stranger,
a mountain of joyous meows, a produced force, a corrupt extremity,
not defeated by the excursion that I my valor whatever poached.

The vertigo of dozens of 0,
mine of millions, I,
a thousand tender fours.

Pyres of O, advantaged against my destinies.
The altitude of O was illuminated,
the lute of a planet, violet, yours,
attentive of your visage for luminance.
Inflammable commentary for the travail of a woman!
Naturally the destinies I suffered, of your mauve –
maintained, illuminated, by gold.

Wolfdays of O! Vainly you return:
Sad plains of O, cerebral desires of O, sad limits of O,
discouragement pains of the OH.

O beautiful your bruins,
oh so often I considered your destinies,
the chaste enjambment of charred restaurants,
of the OH’s alarm,
my sea of I, prolonged,
OH! – I signed by man six sovereign flanks.


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