In Spite of Everything, Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Collar of ClawsPeriod 19th century

I smell the good odor of cows in the meadow;
Cattle, harvests, truly wealth sparkles
In the endless plain, endless, where with its wing
The magpie makes black lines on the golden sky.

And then, here she comes, beautiful entirely to my liking,
The girl who knows nothing of what is wanted of her
But who is the most beautiful in the new season
And whose clear gaze is the most adored.

In spite of all the labors, vague, servile odors,
Far from the sea, and far from the fields, and far from the towns
I want to have her, I want, among her heavy hair,

To forget the absurd, absurd, infamous gaze,
At last, at last I want to drown in you, woman,
And die a criminal forever, forever!

Charles Cros

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