Classic Poem

STATION SQUARE, CHARLEVILLE .

Our instead cut into petty lawns,
Square where everything is correct, trees and flowers,
All wheezy bourgeois qu'etranglent heats
Wear, Thursday evening, their jealous nonsense.

The military band in the middle of the garden,
Balance in his shako waltz fifes:
Around the front rows, the parade dandy,
The notary think its charms to numbers.

Annuitants to highlight all spectacles hiccups,
Big puffy offices drag their fat ladies
From which will, unofficial mahouts
Those with flounces tunes advertisements.

On the green benches of retired grocers clubs,
Who tisonnent the sand with their cane apple,
Very seriously discuss the treaties,
Then snuff money and show: "In short. . . "

Spreading on the bench the curves of her hips,
A bourgeois clear buttons, Flemish belly,
Enjoys his Onnaing where the tobacco strands
Overflows, you know, it's smuggling!

Along the green lawns sneer thugs,
And made love through song clips,
Very naive and smoking roses, Tommies
Caress the baby to coax good.

Me, I am, like a scruffy student
Under green chestnut alerts girls.
They know this and turn laughing
To me their eyes full of indiscreet things.

I do not say a word; I always look
The flesh of their neck embroidered white wisps;
I am under the bodice and frail attire,
Divine back after the curve of the shoulders.

Looking for the boot to the bottom and I will;
I rebuild the body, burning fevers beautiful.
They find me funny and talk softly.
And I feel kisses that come to my lips.