High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress So that, between the wind and the terrain, At times a shining stocking would be seen, And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness. Also, at times a jealous insect's dart Bothered out beauties. Suddenly a white Nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight Was a delicate feast for a young fool's heart. Evening fell, equivocal, dissembling, The women who hung dreaming on our arms Spoke in low voices, words that had such charms That ever since our stunned soul has been trembling.
Les Ingénus
Les hauts talons luttaient avec les longues jupes, En sorte que, selon le terrain et le vent, Parfois luisaient des bas de jambes, trop souvent Interceptés--et nous aimions ce jeu de dupes. Parfois aussi le dard d'un insecte jaloux Inquiétait le col des belles sous les branches, Et c'était des éclairs soudains de nuques blanches, Et ce régal comblait nos jeunes yeux de fous. Le soir tombait, un soir équivoque d'automne: Les belles, se pendant rêveuses à nos bras, Dirent alors des mots si spécieux, tout bas, Que notre âme depuis ce temps tremble et s'étonne.
Translation from Modern Poets of France: A Bilingual Anthology, edited and translated by Louis Simpson, published by Story Line Press, 1997. Copyright © 1997 by Louis Simpson. All rights reserved. Used with permission.