She was only fifteen
when they met,
so Louis called her
Toinette.
He was older,
mais pas de loin*,
so she would call him
Toin.
But in bed she'd whisper
'Toinette'
and he'd back-whisper
'Toin';
and she'd play the king
and he the queen;
and when time came
to guillotine,
'no-one' knew
who was who,
so they chopped off
the heads of the two.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem