Lola Rastaquouère [English translation]

How dare you speak of love to me, he ?

You who did not know Lola rastaquouère

I was filling her tank like a Latécoère

taking off shaking to the African skies.

Lola rastaquouère...

She had such eyes, a true Abyssinian cat

And her breast, two spheres

In between which I was giving up two months of salary

to roll my poor joint.

Lola rastaquouère...

When in her cyclopean sex

I was thrusting my stake as Homer's Ulysses

I had it stiff, rather bitter

Good gods, I was the one who could not see a thing

Lola rastaquouère...

In the torrid moistness of her brass croup

You could see buttercups bloom, from behind

And in the front, a conifer

that reminded me a Jamaican air