I very little knew your husband, Madam;
He was large and ugly, I did not know more.
But we are not annoyed, when we love a woman,
Whether the husband is one-eyed or wobbly or impotent.
I felt that this inoffensive and stupid being
Was too small to be dangerous,
He who may stay between us two,
We will love each other in front of his eyes.
And then, what matters to me other places? But today
It comes to your spirit I do not know which whim.
You speak about oaths, duty and sacrifice
And eternal remorse! … And all that for him?
Do you think of it, Madam? And you believe born,
You, young person, beautiful, with the heart inflated by hope,
To live each day and to sleep each evening
Next to this creature who profaned you?
What! Could you have one moment of remorse?
Can this mislead this modest little runt,
Eunuch, I suppose, and the spirit and the body,
Who will amuse me if he leaves the race?
Look at him, Madam, he has the eyes pierced
Like two small holes in barrel of resin.
His limbs are too short and seem badly thorough,
And his belly amazes, where his chest sinks
Every occasion must be very embarrassing.
When he dines, he places his napkin on his neck
To not make the collar of his shirt dirty
Which he elsewhere spilled tobacco.
Once in the living room he remains distant,
All alone in a black corner, or goes without morning
To the kitchen near the hot stove, because
He knows that digesting whirrs like an organ.
He plays word games with serenity;
You are called: ' my kitten' and: ' my beloved whore' ,
And wants, for any glory and any fame,
To be, in disagreements, with the neighbors opinion.
Him who everywhere is seen as a good man.
He has order, is careful, wise, sparing,
Takes care of the maid and takes it easy,
But they do not go higher… They find him ugly.
He places the candle and takes account of sugar,
Volunteers to fix his own bottoms
And, well he has in his heart a strong love for profits,
He, perhaps, loves you too. In all the cases
He does not understand you more than an ass understands a poem.
He lives at your side, and not with you,
And if I suddenly said to him that I love you,
Perhaps he would be flattered more than jealous.
Blow, inflate with wind this pretentious soldier,
Grotesque scarecrow that on love climbs,
As we put in a tree a wooden mannequin
Of which the birds are afraid at the first sight.
I between my arms, soon will have seized you;
We are going to open to each other irresistibly.
Let he stays between us two, this simple man,
We will make him burst in our embrace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem