The Green Inn
(after Rimbaud)
For eight days straight I battered my boots about
On the stony roads. I strolled into Charleroi,
—-Into the Green Inn: ordered slices of bread
And butter, with half-cooled ham. Happy, I sprawled
My legs right out, under the green table:
I contemplated the rather naive designs
On the wallpaper--and it was sweet as, when
The girl with enormous titties and lively eyes,
—  There's no kiss known could give that one a fright! —
Smiling, served me rounds of buttered bread
And lukewarm ham piled on a coloured plate  —
Rosy and white ham, fragrant with garlic--and filled
My huge mug up with beer, whose foamy head
Was shot to gold by a ray of late sunshine.

Paul Stevens

If you have any comments on this poem, Paul Stevens would be pleased to hear from you.

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