On the Grass, Poem by Paul Verlaine

– The abbé rambles. – And you, marquis,
You’re putting your wig on crooked.
– This old wine of Cyprus is exquisite
Less, Camargo, than your nape.

– My flame … – Do, mi, sol, la, si.
The abbé, your darkness is revealed!
– May I die, ladies, if
I don’t unhook a star for you!

– I would like to be a little dog!
– Let’s kiss our shepherdesses, one
After the other. – Gentlemen, well?
– Do, mi, sol. – Hey! goodnight Moon!

Paul Verlaine

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-on-the-grass-paul-verlaine/