Marcia Baïla [English translation]

Marcia, she danses on satin, on rayon,

On polysyrene expanded around her feet.

Marcia danses with her legs,

Sharp like cleavers,

Two arrows which give ideas,

Sensations,

Marcia, she is thin,

Pretty on the screen, pretty in the town,

Seeing her dancing makes me excited.

Moretto, your mouth is huge,

When you smile and when you laugh,

I laugh as well, you love life so much,

What is then this cold that I sense from you?

But it's the death which assassinated you, Marcia,

It's death which consumes you, Marcia,

It's cancer which you took in your arms,

Now, you are ashen, ashen,

Death, it's an impossible thing,

And even you who is strong like a rocket,

And even you, who is life itself, Marica,

It's death which emanates from you

Marcia danses a little Chinese,

Heat in the movements of her shoulders,

Flat like an Incan hyroglyph.

Of the opera

With her head, she dances very well,

And her face dances with all the rest,

She found a new way,

And she invented it.

It's her, the grasshopper,

The siren of lovesickness,

The dancer in flannel,

Or cardboard

Marcia...