Here you will find the Poem Hotels of poet Guillaume Apollinaire
The room is free Each for himself A new arrival Pays by the month The boss is doubtful Whether you?ll pay Like a top I spin on the way The traffic noise My neighbour gross Who puffs an acrid English smoke O La Vallière Who limps and smiles In my prayers The bedside table And all the company in this hotel know the languages of Babel Let?s shut our doors With a double lock And each adore his lonely love
