The Toad Of Montmartre

The croaking toad

The spitting toad

Is ill

Time and wind pass

Like poor cowards.

 

Nothing is forever

Life will remain beautiful

Put a little salt

‘Cause we must fill up the shovel

Where everything is bland.

 

It's snowing in my heart

It's not a great misfortune

Clouds and birds pass.

 

The croaking toad

The spitting toad

Has lost happiness.

 

P.S. Translation of “Le Crapaud De Montmartre” by Hébert Logerie

Copyright © May 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved

Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.

 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world

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