In the museum, we look
at the attendants: a gangster
a beach girl with sleepy eyes
and a man who's almost falling
but he startles and hobbles away
to the hall with glass tombstones
We see people wait
gloomily, enjoy
a cigar at the end
suppress the disaster at the piano
with a smile, scream to win
their case with their husbands
or cry and jump in
the lifeboats Sauve Qui Peut
(La Vie)
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I would like to translate this poem