The Sailor derives
With the words of Marcelle Betbeder
A day full of dreams, I embarked,
At the wind of the sea I traced furrows,
Breathing the wide open, wind and iodine I have smelled,
Riding the waves, I shook the horizon.
Each stopover saw me in mad debauches,
At random encounters in an infamous box,
To crush the women-mop-rings, beautiful and ugly,
Burning my life without worrying about abortions
I have yielded to the pleasures of merchants of delight from outside
Using and abusing all prohibitions
Degenerate drunk, I haunt the noisy docks of the ports
Begging pitiful, a piece, glue or shit
I get so many blows that I do not feel them any more
I am lapse in all its splendor
So come death, I wait for the greedy
The nose at the level of the gutter rolling its scents
I hear the horns of mist in my drunkenness
They haunt me, they call me the bougresses
Hardi the guys, turns to the windlass with boldness
Wait for me, come on, rise high while cheering
L’ARIÉ….JOIE