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Parisian War Song Parisian War Song

Translated by Wallace Fowlie

Spring is in evidence, for
From the heart of green Estates,
The flight of Theirs and Picard
Hold wide open its splendors!

O May! What delirious bare asses!
Sèvres, Meudon, Bagneux, Asnières,
Listen to the welcome arrivals
Sowing spring-like things!

They have a shako, a sabre, and a tom-tom,
Not the old candle box;
And boats that have nev ... nev ...
Cut through the lake of reddened waters!

More than ever we swagger
When yellow heads come
Collapsing over our ant-hills
In special dawns:

Theirs and Picard are Cupids,
Thieves of heliotropes;
They paint Corots with gasoline:
Here their tropes are buzzing about ...

They are friends of the great what’s-his-name! ...
And Favre, lying in the gladiolas,
Makes an aqueduct of his tears,
And his peppery sniff!

The Big City has a hot pavement
In spite of your showers of gasoline,
And decidedly we have to
Shake you up in your roles ...

And the Rustics who loll about
In long squattings
Will hear boughs breaking
Among red rustlings.

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