The Toad Of Montmartre Poem by Hebert Logerie

The croaking toad
The spitting toad
Is ill
Time and wind pass
Like poor cowards.

Nothing is forever
Life will remain beautiful
Put a little salt
‘Cause we must fill up the shovel
Where everything is bland.

It's snowing in my heart
It's not a great misfortune
Clouds and birds pass.

The croaking toad
The spitting toad
Has lost happiness.

P.S. Translation of "Le Crapaud De Montmartre" by Hébert Logerie
Copyright © May 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.