ASCII Art

This poem is called “Il Pleut” by Apollinaire, and this is its translation:

 

It’s Raining

 

It’s raining women’s voices as if they had died even in memory
And it’s raining you as well marvellous encounters of my life O little
drops
Those rearing clouds begin to neigh a whole universe of auricular cities
Listen if it rains while regret and disdain weep to an ancient music
Listen to the bonds fall off which hold you above and below