[I catch the smell of beans]

I catch the smell of beans

Sit silently in a chair

I’d like to add some salt

I’d like to cook some noodles

I’d like to attend a meeting

The one in the Mutualité

O, take away from me

What’s standing there on the stove

I’ve already learnt how

To listen to Maurice Thorez

To look at Fernand Léger—

to scrub spuds and slice them

Proudly to demonstrate

With a little bag and wearing a wig

I was born a foreigner

In Russia in my own little town

A thread of scattered beads

A bow that’s untied itself

It’s not just a question of taste

But brains and talent as well

Weakly the flame of the burner

Flares up and dies away

The urchin’s a pain

Skittish my festive steed

Translated by Daniel Weissbort