Yesterday I went to a place 
Where people die of hunger; 
Inspecting tomb-like rooms
I slipped on an unpredicted stair! 
* 
It must have been a miracle, surely it was, 
That I clutched at a rotten plank
(In it a nail as in the arms of a cross ! ...) 
I escaped with my life ! 
* 
But carried away only half my heart. 
Of mirth ? Barely a trace !
I bypassed the crowd like a cattle mart, 
I was sick of the world... 
* 
Today I must call on the Baroness 
Who, sitting on a satin couch, 
Entertains with largesse 
But tell her what ?
Mirrors will crack, 
Candelabra shudder at the realism 
And painted parrots
From beak to beak cry 'Socialism !' 
Along the length of the ceiling. 
* 
So : I will take a seat
Hat in hand, then put it down, 
And when the party's done, 
Go home, a silent hypocrite.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    