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IN THAT CAFE CROWDED WITH FOOLS WE STOOD...

In that cafe crowded with fools we stood
Just us two for the hideous turpitude
of liking men; they never thought, the cunts.
We sat on their dim-witted innocence
Their standard loves, their tiny gold rules
While holding to our principles and tools
We swung and parried to our heart's content
Veiled in a cloud on peaceful pipes had sent
Like Zeus and Hera in their nebulous bed
Till our two Punch noses glad and red
Wiped by our fingers with delightful squeezed
Under our table jetted great white sneezes.

Translation by Roland Grant and Paul Archer