After Hofstadter

My translation:

To a Sick Little Girl

My sweet friend,
I would send
you good day;
For your stay
is like jail.
Soon prevail,
sickness heal,
better feel,
and go play.
So I say
you should do.
Give into
your sweet tooth.
Pretty youth
in sickroom,
go consume
tasty sweets --
pale as sheets
you'd become
if you succumb,
losing weight.
Such a fate
God forfend,
My sweet friend.


A une Damoyselle malade

Ma mignonne,
Je vous donne
Le bon jour;
Le séjour
C’est prison.
Puis ouvrez
Votre porte
Et qu’on sorte
Car Clément
Le vous mande.
Va, friande
De ta bouche,
Qui se couche
En danger
Pour manger
Si tu dures
Trop malade,
Couleur fade
Tu prendras,
Et perdras
Dieu te doint
Santé bonne,
Ma mignonne.

(Also: if you translate Hofstadter's book into a textbook about computer programming instead of a wandering musing on poetry, you get this book:


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