The Property Owner, Poem by Charles Cros

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

Born in some unhealthy hole
Of Auvergne or the Limousin,
He first digs the earth.
Humble, without desire, without aim;
Such is the modest beginning
Of the property owner.

As soon as the weather is finer
He buys some clogs
At forty sous a pair
And sets off, his heart full of hope;
He doesn’t look, to see him,
Like a property owner.

At first, to earn his bread,
He sells rabbit skins.
Though this trade makes one thirsty,
He does not drink away his money,
For he is intelligent,
The property owner.

If some mocking little face,
Eyeing his purse and his heart,
Should defy his haughty charge!…
Without discounting the future
He resists and stays pure,
The property owner.

His little hoard at first
Quietly rounds itself out
In calm and mystery,
Then, in accord with the law,
His gold almost makes him a king,
The property owner.

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-the-property-owner-charles-cros/