LA GROSSE DAME CHANTE
Eat the pianist? Enter the Bosendorfer?
Manger le pianiste ? Entrer dans le Pleyel ?
Que va faire la dame énorme ? L’on murmure…
Elle râcle sa gorge et bombe son armure :
La dame va chanter. Un œil fixant le ciel
- L’autre suit le papier, secours artificiel -
Elle chante. Mais quoi ? Le printemps ? La ramure ?
Ses rancoeurs d’incomprise et de femme trop mûre ?
Qu’importe ! C’est très beau, très long, substantiel.
La note de la fin monte, s’assied, s’impose.
Le buffet se prépare aux assauts de la pause.
« Après, le concerto ?… - Mais oui, deux clavecins. »
Des applaudissements à la dame bien sage…
Et l’on n’entendra pas le bruit que font les seins
Clapotant dans la vasque immense du corsage.
THE FAT LADY SINGS
Eat the pianist? Enter the Bosendorfer?
What will the fat lass do? One hears a sigh...
She clears her throat and puffs out her torso:
She’s going to sing! An eye fixed on the sky
She clears her throat and puffs out her torso:
She’s going to sing! An eye fixed on the sky
- The other’s on the score’s relieving prompt -
She’s singing now. What of? The spring? The song
Of woman wronged that too ripe age gazumped?
No matter! It's too beautiful, too … long.
She’s singing now. What of? The spring? The song
Of woman wronged that too ripe age gazumped?
No matter! It's too beautiful, too … long.
The final note ascends vibrates, rewards,
The bar prepares the break’s refueling blitz.
"What’s next? A symphony?…"Two harpsichords."
The bar prepares the break’s refueling blitz.
"What’s next? A symphony?…"Two harpsichords."
For the brave woman, thunderous applause,
So we don’t hear the noise made by her tits
Clapping in the vast basin of her blouse.
So we don’t hear the noise made by her tits
Clapping in the vast basin of her blouse.
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