by Paul Eluard
In a corner agile incest
Circles the virginity of a little dress.
In a corner the sky turned over
To the spines of the storm leaves white balls behind.
In the brightest corner of every eye
We’re expecting the fish of anguish.
In a corner the car of summer
Immobile glorious and forever.
In the light of youth
Lamps lit very late.
The first one shows its breasts that red insects are killing.