Paul ÉLUARD works on the verses of his collection “Uninterrupted Poetry”.

Paul ÉLUARD (1895.1952)

Autograph manuscript.

Two quarto leaves numbered 13 and 16 in the corner.

Slnd [1946]

Moving proofs of the work of the poet enriching, in blue ink, the verses of his collection Uninterrupted Poetry published in 1946. Éluard dedicated “ these pages to those who will read them poorly and to those who will not like them. »

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The standard bed of defeat

Light fade empty glass

The mirror word where beauty begs for bread

Pretty nightingale in the night

Opens the wounds of insomnia 

Let the forest be your lint 

The word carries a cry of agony

Rotten escape calculation

The wave from which we no longer escape

A man's blood spills
in less than an hour forever

A man's blood is horrifying

A man's blood answers no

Any questions when he dies

The word springboard springs from the loins of the viper 

Monster of Indifference Statue

Leaf torn from the bell 

Panorama everything comes down to the smallest 

The word facade twilight

Pavement following the established order 

Trembling eaglet son of vertigo 

And the roofs are covered with snow

Or quack like graves 

Happy hands have betrayed

They didn't find anything good

In nature nor in man

Ten fingers are too few to understand

Insensitive stone massive well

Where the skeleton drinks its shadow 

Stationary centipede spike 

Lips the wings of a mill

Which turns against desires 

Favor chains around the legs 

The word pollen like spit

Like a palace thrown to the ground 

Storm clock broken 

Hard beads drying on foot

Marketable fire of virtues

All eyes in their filthy rust

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An arrow blooms

From the bow of the bed of fatigue

Against death the old story

Whose glory has faded 

The claw clasps the fragile gold

From the clear mirage of its prey 

The vine embraces the crowd

The ear fertilizes the lightning 

Honey twists a bundle of needles

Who sew the sweetness of life 

The dead pearl splits

In a thousand pearls fertile fires

The pearl speaks through the brilliance of its candor
When will I only have to melt into mine

Minute lights island lights

Throughout a still journey

Of a great journey where no one is alone

Where no one is afraid of their neighbor

Roads I follow in step with the best men

Roads I go further than I expected

I always needed only one being to live

To exalt others

Pierre I am not made of wood

My flesh is boiling and alive

Our hands are led to dance

By the wings and the song of birds 

The table rules the writing

The end note hits it right

The table rules the harvest

Like our lips pleasure

The tide rises like the tree

Like our eyes spreading

 The sail takes a huge step

Then inflates for all winds

A sail goes away and returns to sea

Diminishes at my sight and grows at the stopover

Man sails and flies he unravels the distance

He escapes his weight he escapes the earth

I can live between four walls

Without forgetting anything outside

House of the ancient core of a giant fruit

I open the door which leaves the wise and the foolish

Each one more beautiful than the other

Everyone ahead of the morning