Spring is in evidence, for
O May! What delirious bare asses!
They have a shako, a sabre, and a tom-tom,
More than ever we swagger
Theirs and Picard are Cupids,
They are friends of the great what’s-his-name! ...
The Big City has a hot pavement
And the Rustics who loll about
From the heart of green Estates,
The flight of Theirs and Picard
Hold wide open its splendors!
Sèvres, Meudon, Bagneux, Asnières,
Listen to the welcome arrivals
Sowing spring-like things!
Not the old candle box;
And boats that have nev ... nev ...
Cut through the lake of reddened waters!
When yellow heads come
Collapsing over our ant-hills
In special dawns:
Thieves of heliotropes;
They paint Corots with gasoline:
Here their tropes are buzzing about ...
And Favre, lying in the gladiolas,
Makes an aqueduct of his tears,
And his peppery sniff!
In spite of your showers of gasoline,
And decidedly we have to
Shake you up in your roles ...
In long squattings
Will hear boughs breaking
Among red rustlings.
