Belaud, my little gray cat!
Jean Françaix
His well-formed head,
Silvered whiskers,
His damsel-like muzzle.
My God, what entertainment it was
When this Belaud spun insanely
Around a ball.
What a pleasure, when his silly head,
Following his tail a thousand times
Imitated the run of a spinning wheel.
O what a sorrow! O what a loss,
Which cannot be recovered!
Yes, three days ago I lost
My pleasure, my good, my loves.
Truly Death was inhuman;
If she took the trouble of seeing
Such a cat, she should have
had mercy on it, I believe.
May God will, little Belaud,
That I may be witty enough
To be able to blazon your gentle race,
In some beautiful style.
Belaud, whose beauty was such,
That it is worthy of being immortal.
Belaud, my little cat!
Belaud, my little gray cat!