The hump-backed barber Célestin Lemaire,
Old madame Michel in her three-wheeled chair,
And filing past to Vespers, two and two,
The demoiselles of the pensionnat.
Towed like a ship through the harbour bar,
Safe into port, where le petit Jésus
Perhaps makes nothing of the look they shot at you:
Si, c’est défendu, mais que voulez-vous?
It was the sun. The sunshine weaves
A pattern on dull stones: the sunshine leaves