Women in dressing gowns, carrying their milk can,
Fearing to dirty themselves, showed their calves.
There were three of them, wearing ulsters lined with sable.
They were coming home this morning from an orgy in Montmartre,
And these three debauchees laughed at the sweet coffee
That the wife serves, well heated, to her husband in bed.
A priest, passing by, blushed at this blasphemy.
They mocked the priest. And one even whistled
Some obscene song, learned at the Delass-Com.
The priest simply said to them: Pax vobiscum!
Charles Cros
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-benediction-charles-cros/
