The Irish guy I sit next to at work is super nice (translation: he doesn’t get annoyed by my endless stream of questions). And he loves language and literature like nobody’s business. Yesterday he shared this Ogden Dash poem, which is quite perfect, after I said, “Absolument.”
I wander through a Paris shower.
Off to inspect a flat à louer.
The water pours as from a pitcher
On walls inscribed Défense d’afficher.
If I had splashed through such a pond,
I don’t remember where or quand.
With raindrops glistening on my garment.
I reach my goal, I don’t know comment.
I ring. I do not wish to trespass;
For trespassing is naughty, n’est-ce pas?
The stairway irks my fallen arch.
Because one learns l’ascenseur ne marche.
I like the flat: with cheerful mien
I murmur to the man, ‘Combien?’
He mentions his idea of payment,
I say that it’s exorbitant, vraiment!
Have I misunderstood his statement?
I do not speak the French parfaitement.
He mentions a reduced emolument,
I cry that it’s a deal, absolument.
And now I think a glass of wine
Would not be too unpleasant, hein?