La Soupe et les nuages
beloved gave me to dinner, and through the open window of the dining room I watched the moving architectures that God makes vapors, the wonderful buildings of the impalpable. And I said to myself, through my contemplation: "All those phantasmagoria are almost as beautiful as the eyes of my beautiful beloved, the little green-eyed monster crazy."
And I suddenly received a violent blow punched in the back, and I heard a hoarse voice and charming voice hystérique enrouée et comme par l'eau-de-vie, la voix ma chère petite Bien-Aime, qui disait: "Allez-vous bientôt manger votre soupe, s. .. b. .. of marchand de nuages? "
..............
Baudelaire, Petits poèmes en prose
soup and the clouds
My crazy little love me was dinner and the dining room window I watched the shifting architectures that God makes with the fumes, the beautiful buildings of the impalpable. And I said, watching "All those phantasmagoria are almost as beautiful as the sight of my beautiful love, the crazy monster green eyes. "
And suddenly received a violent blow on the back and heard a gruff voice and delicious, a hoarse voice as hysterical and the brandy, the voice of my dear love that saying, "Are you going to eat the soup from a time jod ... Seller of clouds? "
Jojo! Very good, yes sir. I need, want, I demand a crazy monster ...
are
0 comments:
Post a Comment