The Toad Of Montmartre
The croaking toad
The spitting toad
Is ill
Time and wind pass
Like poor cowards.
Nothing is forever
Life will remain beautiful
Put a little salt
‘Cause we must fill up the shovel
Where everything is bland.
It's snowing in my heart
It's not a great misfortune
Clouds and birds pass.
The croaking toad
The spitting toad
Has lost happiness.
P.S. Translation of “Le Crapaud De Montmartre” by Hébert Logerie
Copyright © May 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
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