In Antwerp, Bruges, Ostend and Ghent
I used to order food with flair,
But in every inn to which I went
They always brought me, with my fare,
O Socratès plains de philosophie,
Seneque en meurs, Auglius en pratique,
Ovides grans en ta poëtrie,
You who live now in this world
And which live sovereign in virtue,
It is to you death remembered?
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.