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I knew your husband very little, madame;
He was fat and ugly, I knew nothing more.
But one is not vexed, when one loves a woman,
That the husband be one-eyed or lame or crippled.
I felt that this inoffensive and stupid being
Was too small to be dangerous,
That he could remain standing between us two,
That we would love each other above his head.
And then, what did it matter to me besides? But today
Some caprice or other comes into your mind.
You speak of vows, duty and sacrifice
And eternal remorse!… And all that for him?
Do you think about it, madame? And you believe yourself born,
You, young, beautiful, with a heart swollen with hope,
To live each day and sleep each evening
Beside this moneybox who has profaned you?
What! Could you have a moment of remorse?
Can one deceive this good-natured runt,
Eunuch, I suppose, in mind and in body,
Who would surprise me greatly if he left any offspring?
Look at him, madame, his eyes are pierced
Like two little holes in a cask of resin.
His limbs are too short and seem badly grown,
And his astonishing belly, in which his chest sinks,
On every occasion must hinder him greatly.
When he dines, he hangs his napkin from his neck
So as not to stain his shirt front
Which he has moreover peppered with tobacco, for he takes snuff.
Once in the drawing room he sits apart,
All alone in a dark corner, or else goes without pride
To the kitchen by the well-warmed stove, for
He knows that while digesting he snores like an organ.
He makes puns with serenity;
Calls you: “”my puss”” and: “”my beloved chick,””
And wants, for all glory and all renown,
To be, in their disputes, consulted by the neighbors.
Everyone says of him that he is a fine honest man.
He is orderly, he is careful, wise, thrifty,
Watches the servant and takes her by the calf,
But goes no higher… She finds him ugly.
He hides the candle and keeps count of the sugar,
Would gladly set about mending his stockings
And, although he has very strongly in his heart the love of lucre,
He loves you perhaps too. In any case
He no more understands you than a donkey a poem.
He lives at your side, and not with you,
And if I suddenly told him that I love you,
Perhaps he would be more flattered than jealous.
Blow, inflate with wind this gendarme of a bladder,
Grotesque scarecrow that one perches on love,
As one puts in a tree a wooden dummy
Of which birds are afraid only the first time.
I will soon have you seized in my arms;
We go toward each other irresistibly.
Let him remain between us two, this bladder-man,
We will make him burst in an embrace.
Guy de Maupassant
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-summons-without-respect-guy-de-maupassant/