| FLEUR DES FIÈVRES | FEVER FLOWER |
| Théodore Hannon | trans. 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! |