The Poet Assassinated

by Guillaume Apollinaire

* * *

In the lovely woods, Tristouse promenaded meditating.

TRISTOUSE

My heart is sad without thee, Croniamantal. I loved thee without knowing it. All is green. All is green above my head and beneath my feet. I have lost him whom I loved. I must search this way and that way, here and yonder. And among them all I shall surely find someone who will please me.

Returned from other times, Croniamantal cried out at sight of Tristouse and the fountain again:

CRONIAMANTAL

Goddess! who art thou? Where is thine eternal form?

TRISTOUSE

Oh, there he is again, handsomer than ever... Listen, o poet. I belong to thee, henceforth.

Without looking at Tristouse, Croniamantal bent over the pool.