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Cotton wings

Twinkling star of the big screen
fascinating and cynical beach playboy
olympic winner with ten medals
skillful politician wherever they are,
magnificient stud,
mythical winner of thousand battles:
that was John in his imagination
that made him forget his state
to scape and set off from his corner
and set off from his corner
to be able to fly, fly, fly
succeed, shine.
 
Gloomy corner of a lobby
where the sun doesn't appear and is never the day
sad, damped and dark room
without ventilation
a coal heater in the bed
as any heating
that was how John lived with his imagination
that made him forget his state
to scape and set off from his corner
and set off from his corner
to be able to fly, fly, fly
to forget.
 
Gloomy corner of a lobby
sobbing choruses of foolish neighbors
joining to the sound of a rasping radio
simply Mary
Powerful fantasy was John's,
who even like that, could listen to the sea
in a seashell painted in glitter
and flying after the procession of swallows
painted to the viridian wall
under the divine look of a sacred heart
under the painful look
of the purgatory souls,
under the dull look
of his parents in the wedding vows
he, sitting, with a frown,
she, standing, behind her husband,
owner and sir,
gazing at himself
disguised as angel
cotton wings
the day of his first communion
when he still believed that he'd be,
like the Red Baron,
a hero of the aviation
before jumping from the balcony and become lame
 
to fly, fly, fly
 

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Colonials and overseas

Oh sailor, oh sailor
I love you, I die for you
I chase you to Mozambique
even if I drown I go with you
May I go with you to heaven
I'm going sailor without your permission
from Macao to Callao and Honolulu
and even Mindanao even if you don't want it
 
Your eyes are clean like the sea
there are reflections of gold in your look
and a blue sapphire background that is guessed
behind the mirror of your pupils
 
your hair reminds me a lot of the sea
like a vision of tempest,
and the wind shakes it and crowds it around
ebbs and flows that fascinate me
 
Your voice is deep like the sea
with distant echoes of loneliness,
and in its silence there's an echo
of great holes and of distance
 

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The king of the house

The king of the house was born this morning
fathers and sisters sing of joy
a little boy to honor
the noble surname of the father.
 
When he aged two his dad gave him
a toy gun, an electric train
but he likes more to play with toy kitchens
and the dad gets scared and says, this kid came out queer
 
When he aged eight he was slapped
because by watching Pinocchio the fool cried
and they emphasized him well,
that crying is reserved for women.
 
And once embroidering happy in a canvas
he's discovered by his mother and pegged
he shocks his father for leaving his hair long
and he gets spanked, punished without dinner... and called girl
 
They force him to do military service
the poor will clean toilets everyday
the discipline will transform him
into a man with military uniform
 
He returns from the service without a change
the unnaturalized son drives his dad crazy
he's kicked out of the house without money nor food
and he goes whistling to face life
 
Finally he found, the perfect match
she's a male engineer, both clean the dishes
he's a professor of greek and latin
both take care of the house and the garden
 
Oh my dear, I love you so much
you're braver than the very Espartero
 
Boys and girls come out of this union
Everyone laugh, everyone cry
Everyone cook, everyone embroider
everyone study music
at the public school
 
Everyone gets covered with colors,
everyone make flowers bouquets
Everyone rule the machines
and Maths
 
Everyone laugh, everyone cry
Everyone cook, everyone embroider
Everyone shout, everyone sing
Everyone run, everyone jump
To the sun heads over heels
Everyone climb the trees
 

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Love letters

I write every day a love letter,
to an imaginary, innocent love:
some dry leaves of sweet peas,
a Dior perfume,
beautiful and many stamps
of different color.
 
Love letters without destination
love letters without address
what an outrage, what a nonsense
what an injustice
 
And what would I do?
if you reply to me
of scare and amazement
if you write to me
my heart would explode
 
I write every day a love letter,
without recipient and put it in the mailbox
I always wait for the postman with illusion
at the same hour and with the same faith
always the same story
there's nothing for you
 
Love letters without destination
love letters without address
what an outrage, what a nonsense
what an injustice
 
And without solution!
I keep insisting
with my red marker
I keep writing
love letters
 

My translations are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.

The hellish machine

Manufactured for evil
with ten eyes of crystal
hands of iron and steel
teeth that chew money
and metal heart
 
triqui-tri-trac
zum-catacroc-cric-crac
zum-catacroc-cric-crac
I'm the hellish machine
 
Granddaughter of a noble watch,
of a true gold clock
and a musicbox
that were making love
at a king's palace
 
I'm a robot
zum-catacrac-cric-croc
zum-catacrac-cric-croc
and I'll end like junk.
 
I'm a metal doll
poor hellish machine
and I'll end like junk
like an old guitar
that stopped sounding
 
triqui-tri-trac
zum-catacroc-cric-crac
zum-catacroc-cric-crac
that stopped sounding
 

My translations are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.