XXLove letters

 

When an angel serenaded you,

 

 

The typeset posters were all over the Hill,

Gaston managed to circulate them,

In the Place du Tertre,

In the boulevard de Clichy,

They were put up even on Moulin Rouge,

Your were evicted from Basilique du Sacre Coeur,

On the snow-white walls your art was short-lived,

It was ripped off by the padre or God himself,

Both of them got very angry,

 

Workers in overalls, butchers and taxi-drivers,

Poets and artists,

Florists and pastry cooks,

Writers and can can dancers,

They were drawn out of hated routine,

And planted in happy idleness,

Imagination raved,

The forthcoming party excited them,

The true artist sees joy and grief as mighty oneness,

 

The party attracted a lot of people,

Bright costumes dazzled eyes,

There were Spaniards in doublets,

Collars jabot and helmets,

Maidens with flowers flirted with captains,

 Sailors were everywhere,

Arrogant plume hats and pirates of any kind,

Dutch Protestants wore shoes with square buckles,

And tightly buttoned suits,

British officers strutted around like roosters wearing cocked hats,

 

It was the zenith of the ship-to-ship combat,

Thick smoke and naphthalene smelled,

On the deck there were corsairs, marauders,

The floor was slippery with wine and beer,

Shouts and laugh didn’t run out,

Liquor was cheap,

Dreams were expensive,

Everyone thought the same,

‘I am next Renoir or Rodin.

One day I’ll thrive.

I’ll rent a decent workshop.

This beer tastes like piss.

Someday I will be big.

I will drink only absinthe’.

 

Antoine was a cabin boy with a black scarf around his neck,

He passed a beer to a towering giant,

The giant set his giant legs wide apart,

His hand rested on his right hip,

You recognized sculpture Guillaume,

You met him the other day,

He threatened to use a boatswain pipe,

Next to his worn out shoe an Italian sword meddled,

 

A gypsy beauty made an appearance and grabbed your left hand,

‘If you are against the world, you will save it,

Without firing a shot, without a sword and a bayonet,

Nobody will know about your brave deeds,

Don’t be upset,

Let pain and fears go,

You will be a savior after you grow,

I’m an art dealer catering to private collections,

I want to see your works’,

The ship was rammed and finally seized.

 

PS Happy Christmas! I hope Cupid will continue serenading and blowing soap bubbles.