This man walks along the darkened quay at night
along the Seine between Courbevoie and Asnieres
this man whose shadow at each instant's escape might
follow its straight path and curved street elsewhere
this man's feet hurt,he's in poverty
and the fatigue ties up his shoulders
this man dances with every step
long like winter nights can be
the tram has not rolled for an hour
this man measures the kilometers
up to the thickness of his soles
all night on this street he scours
his awaiting mistress almost respectable
she tends to the streams of repentant butchers
and spent their time in her room insatiable
in which now lives the tramouai man
come morning he must flee the strong pitiful eyes
and resume his path near the sonorous depot
and while beauty still sleeps so soundly at its post
he sighs how sweet and gentle it is to feel loved
