Well-behaved little girls
learned to be unobtrusive.
Smiling, polite, well-groomed,
knees neatly together on the couch.
Their little hands are very nimble,
thin as thread and needle.
Their rooms are Japanese gardens.
They frighten easily, they cry for nothing.
A rosy lace-wrapped life
in the blue shadow of mothers
In your cotton box,
well sheltered from emotions,
your anger is a mere tantrum
and your violence but a trick.
And if you don't tidy up everything
you're but a tomboy!
Flowers and dolls make them happy,
they blush at the slightest glance.
Just like the princesses in their novels,
they dream in secret of a Prince Charming.
They picture themselves as actresses, stewardesses.
They'll end up being midwives or secretaries.
They already have maternal instinct,
they lay the table and do the dishes.
A rosy apron-dressed life
in the blue shadow of the sink.
In your soap box,
well sheltered from temptations,
you're being offered cheap dreams,
like so many fancy outfits.
If you find them too skimpy,
you're but a tomboy!
But little boys are more clever.
The world is theirs anyway.
They like running around
and come home with scabs on their knees.
They think girls are a bit silly
and make fun of them as they walk by.
They pick up fights and curse.
Like their heroes, they never cry.
Wearing pink or blue, you little kids
who twenty years from now
will turn into well tamed
and brought up men and women,
will you play these parts
you were taught
between fear and contempt,
for better and for worse?
A rosy worry-tainted life
in the blue shadow of loans
in your concrete boxes
well sheltered from revolutions