Alle 55 Texte von Roger-Bôtan

— Le sé orar oración a Dios. — ¿Es oída? — No, Ícaro: raro es Él. — ¡Amad! — Al oírnos rajar sonrió la dama. La zorra es en ese arrozal.

Dum gelidam pluviam patiuntur equi tremebundi, siccantur testes, membra, natesque equitum.

My honey's lips are colourless and dull, Her eyes are so opaque that I get bored, There grows no hair upon the ugly skull, The tits are flatter than an ironing board. Her cheeks are not like roses fresh and young, They urge me to go out...

Sappho, you followed your ecstatic impulse and climbed a promontory on the shore and froze up there aghast, because you saw it was neither Parnassus nor Olympus. You heard no raving cheers, no flutes or cymbals, you saw no Pegasus for you to soar...

Young Jerry who lived in the prairies Rode out every day to pluck cherries, So that now in those places You can see lots of faces Resembling each other and Jerry’s.