Original Title: "Jour de lessive"
Text: Gaston Couté
His poems were first published in 1928 after his death.
Year: 1963
I left this very morning
Still drunk from the night but taken
of what's like an extreme digust
Spitting my farewell to Paris
And here I am, my good woman,
Yes, bust like four coins
My laundry is dirty so is my soul...
Here I am home!
My poor mother is on washday
Mother, Mother
Mother, your bad guy is coming
At the right time!...
Here is that linen on which dripped many
And many times a bitter wine,
Where bitches with painted lips
have wiped their mouth of hell
And here my soul, darker
Of the same blemishes - Alas!
Than the front of my shirt
Grey, pink and lilac...
My poor mother is on washday
Mother, Mother
Mother, your bad guy is coming
At the right time!...
At the bottom of the cuvier where we sow,
among the water, the ash from the oven,
Let all my bohemian linen
rest for a whole day...
And at last let my soul, alike
to that saddening display,
Among your soul - Oh good old woman!
Rest a moment...
My poor mother is on washday
Mother, Mother
Mother, your bad guy is coming
At the right time!...
Just like the linen confides
Its shame to the sweetnes of water
When I'll have recounted my life
Miserable of awful bastard,
Like one rinces in the fountain
The linen coming out of the cuvier
Mother, water my soul in sorrow
With a little mercy!
My poor mother is on washday
Mother, Mother
Mother, your bad guy is coming
At the right time!...
And when you will come to spread out
The linen parfumed of yellow flag
All white among the tender whiteness
Of the hedge where the month of May is blooming
I want to see my soul, still pure
In spite of its long sleep
In pain and filth,
Come back to life under the Sun!...
Gabriel Yacoub's version:
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