The sun is hidden behind a pancake. Like him,

O crazywoman of my life! you cover yourself with a frozen waffle, burnt on one side.

Attention! There is smoke coming from under the crack below the door; softly it mumbles, softly it lifts its hat off to dance

And plunges entirely into the mouth of the laundry bag.

I still love you! Even if you are a porter. If you want to today,

Go to the barber and shave your head like a monk;

Your bald pate on the avenue will bring everyone to smile,

And this is a good thing! You are the charming direction-giver, caught in the city’s gravitational eye!

Light your prune tree with the flame of the lecherous!

Light the desires in the looks of the rusty!

Everything about you is pleasing to me, even more so in the bathroom or watering the plants

As softly as you dress when you drive in the black night with your hair dyed red.

There isn’t one flake of cereal in all my cabinets that doesn’t tremble for you,

That doesn’t cry out: O my darling Anti-Christ, je t’adore!