Wednesday, November 19, 2014

The First Poem I Ever Wrote in French (November 2013)

J'aime le froid
mais pas comme ca
Mes doigts sont tristes
Mais Je ne suis pas une pesimiste
Ils sont rouges et ils sont moches
Le probleme est que je n'ai pas de poche
Je m'ai jamais vue le temps comme ca
Et franchement, je n'aime pas
Pendant que j'ecris, mes doigts restent froids
Et maintenant aussi mes jambes et mes bras
Maintenant c'est l'automne et bientot l'hiver
Il pleure sur la ville comme je suis Jacques Prevert
Ou est le soleil? Pas ici and pas la-bas...
Mais je suis certaine que mes doigts vont rester froids.

It sounds really weird in English but I swear in French it rhymes and makes a lot more sense 

TRANSLATION:
I love the cold
But not like this
My hands are sad
But I'm not a pesimist
They're red and they're ugly
The problem is I don't have pockets
I've never seen weather like this
And Frankly, I don't like it
My hands are still cold while I write
And now my legs and my arms, also
Now it's Fall and it'll soon be Winter
It's raining in the city like I'm Jacques Prevert (A French poet who wrote a poem called It's raining in my heart like it rains in the city)
Where is the sun? Not here and not over there...
But I'm positive that my hands will stay cold



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