iPoem · 1813.909.932.569 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 1813.909.932.569 (no. 791,007) was generated on July 20, 2026 at 11:16 pm
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