Drottningen av Vence (English translation)
The Queen of Vence
When the heat vibrates in the lovely Provence
we are there, as usual, down at Henry's Bar in Vence.
We enjoy a siesta next to an ice cold half bottle of wine
and we wait patiently for the captivating Christine.
Inside the cries are heard from the notable clientel:
Those Nice Losers in life's own game.
Here nest artists and whores in the city,
here sit bohemians and junkies in a row,
Here one lives with each other, side by side.
Here one seeks life's intoxication For the day's lowest price.
Here one asks no questions, here one shares the same pains.
Here is every enjoyment perhaps life's last meal.
We creep furtively out towards the square now and then.
We know so well which way she usually goes.
When the clock strikes four Henry himself offers wine.
Then it is soon time for the charming Christine.
And suddenly it gets quiet, and suddenly the buzz is muted.
and all the losers go out on the sidewalk.
There she comes forward in the crowd, like sent down from heaven,
The loveliest of them all: The Queen of Vence.
She collects the necessities in a brown basket,
and carefully the city's colorful square fades.
Then we nod to each other and raise our glasses.
Soon it is our turn, soon our queen has finished shopping.
So she turns herself towards the bar, and sees us on the sidewalk,
and gives us a smile which no one else has.
Then we cry out in ecstasy, and crush the empty glasses,
then we also know that this afternoon can be good.