For a revised and expanded edition of the collection Merde à la Belle Époque, a sonnet by Armand Masson. A rhymed translation like this inevitably requires some paraphrase, but often comes closer to the original poem. Besides, it’s what the poets of 1887 would have expected.

THE EYE
(Armand Masson, 1887)

The eye was in the pot. The artist’s flair
Endowed it with a purple eyebrow too.
Its painted scarlet pupil gazed at you
Intently, with a melancholy air.

We won it at the county fair that day:
A lucky spin, and then it was our own.
Fifine declared the china finest bone,
And said she’d like to try it right away.

But back at home, it looked so new and clean,
She couldn’t soil a surface so pristine,
And pensively returned it to the rack.

It’s silly, but it took her several days:
That eye that stared so mercilessly back
Unnerved her with its penetrating gaze.