FLEUR DES FIÈVRESFEVER FLOWER
Théodore Hannontrans. James Kirkup

Paris, ville où la chair en fleur s'épanouit,
Paris va regorgeant de gorges provoquantes
Et comme un espalier glorieux de son fruit,
Bombe superbement ses grands seins de bacchantes.

Le corset ploie et craque au chargement de chair
Et, le busc en arrêt, tend ses pointes jumelles.
Sans honte, de deux monts ardents tu te pommèles,
Corsage que Jordaëns aurait prisé bien cher!

Autour de moi, câlin, fait moutonner sa houle
Cet océan nouveau qui m'affole et me soûle,
Et dont le flot tout blanc vient tenter mon assaut ...

À moi la fille pâle et grêle, fleur des fièvres!
Car je veux promener mes ongles et mes lèvres
Sur des corps aux maigreurs de vierge et de puceau.

Paris - city where the flesh flourishes with flowers,
Paris who struts her provocative puddings
And like a trellis in all the glory of its full, ripe fruit
Superbly bounces its big bacchante busts.

The waspwaist corset strains and creaks with its bundles of meat
And, stays at the ready, pokes the points of its double milkshakes.
Shameless, you pummel the pairs of passionate paps -
Cleavages Jordaëns would have plastered with plunging highlights.

All around me, carressive, coaxing, this revolutionary ocean tide
Heaves up its swell upon swell, sending me crazy, high as a kite
As all this white-hot insurgency attacks and encircles me...

But O, give me the pale, gaunt skinny-lizzie, my fever flower!
For I'm longing to let my nails go roaming, and mv lips,
On breadboard bodies, slender as virgins, bony as famished apprentices!

Trans. copyright © James Kirkup 2003


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