| LE COEUR VOLÉ | THE STOLEN HEART |
| Arthur Rimbaud | trans. Niall McDevitt |
Mon triste coeur bave à la poupe, Mon coeur couvert de caporal: Ils y lancent des jets de soupe, Mon triste coeur bave à la poupe: Sous les quolibets de la troupe Qui pousse un rire général, Mon triste coeur bave à la poupe, Mon coeur couvert de caporal! Ithyphalliques et pioupiesques Leurs quolibets l'ont dépravé! Au gouvernail on voit des fresques Ithyphalliques et pioupiesques. Ô flots abracadabrantesques, Prenez mon coeur, qu'il soit lavé! Ithyphalliques et pioupiesques Leurs quolibets l'ont dépravé! Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques, Comment agir, ô coeur volé? Ce seront des hoquets bachiques Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques: J'aurai des sursauts stomachiques, Moi, si mon coeur est ravalé: Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques Comment agir, ô coeur volé? | My sad heart slobbers at the poop Yellowy with tobacco stains. Now they're squirting their jets of soup! My sad heart slobbers at the poop As the ball-breaking of the troops Has them guffawing on the main. My sad heart slobbers at the poop Yellowy with tobacco stains. Ithyphallic and belligerent, Their ball-breaking has depraved it. The rudder's daubed in smutty paint, Ithyphallic and belligerent. Abracadabraesque waves are sent To cleanse my heart and save it; Ithyphallic and belligerent, Their ball-breaking has depraved it. When they have spat out their plugs, Oh stolen heart, what can we do To please these Rabelaisian slugs When they have spat out their plugs? My stomach will dredge up the glugs Into the bilge-wells of this stew ... When they have spat out their plugs, Oh stolen heart, what can we do? |
Trans. Copyright: Niall McDevitt 2009