Original Title: "Quai des Chartrons"
Related to the neighborhood of the Chartrons in the city of Bordeaux, France.
One would swear that your big disloyal eyes fear something.
Your modesty would throw refutations and confessions.
I'd believe in them like the one who takes it off believes in the rose
From a vase or on your lip: a laugh and your hair.
A radio burried in the vast living room, a sullen jazz
Very dignified and a smoke of blond thin* would play there a little.
Like relegated to the background, her perfume in the smell of leather composes us
The vain decor that we want on us for the desire .
Of course, you will cheat and more while coming closer among the palm leaves
And under the blades of the propeller pulsating the air, you would smell
inside of you and through your fluid clothes and pale.
Swell the brass or melt many calm suns.
Then like the fragrances of evil are lianas or leaves.
Fervent you would crouch skillfully among the laces.
To pick them up but animal as well like human
And of the slowness that we become intoxicated with and I was wanting you.
We will be a sweet summer afternoom like a swan's neck.
The artificial darkness with the wicker blind that we will make
Favourable and that word will make us smile inside.
And then we would love exchanging like at the bal some signs.
While somewhere else close people in the crowd of the cities
Would go every man for himself especially without knowing.
And brushing against us and that tranquil insanity.
For fun, we would love to give ourselves like two beautiful thieves.