I spent the weekend on a Dutch barge on a French canal, working towards my helmer’s license. Being back in France after so many years was perfect. A cold wet breeze over endless fields of rapeseed. A massive wheel in my hands, hands that had been ripped up by old ropes. A cyclist waving from the towpath.

I jumbled languages in my head. Waiters scowled when I answered in Chinese, and a shopkeeper glared at the request for “ek Marlboro.” The French took it’s sweet time coming back, but when it did, it came back with a vengeance. A poem I’d learned when I was fourteen years old reappeared in my mind. I’m back in India now, but I can’t get it out of my head. It’s haunting me.

It’s the sad story of a disgruntled Frenchman, who flees to the moon to escape his miserable life.

The only problem is: it doesn’t seem to exist.

Here’s what I remember…

Le cosmonaute cosmopolite,
S’en est allé vers l’infini,
Vers l’infini du firmament,
Pour oublier son triste passé,
Son passée qui le hante tant.

“Adieu, adieu, mes chers parents
Adieu, adieu, mon président.”
(Something like “he shouted,” or maybe just “à t’il dit”?)
“Je fous le camp!”

My French friends don’t recognize it. Google claims the words have never been written. Am I dramatically mistaken? Did I dream it? Did my high school French teacher write it himself in a flurry of inspiration? (Would be a great way to disseminate your work!)

It’s a lovely poem, and I wish I could find the rest of it. I’m posting it here so that Google finally has at least a single result, and maybe someone can help me piece together the source (and ending!) of this sweet ode.

And in case you were wondering, I passed my barge exams. I’m now RYA CESSNA-certified to drive a 50m behemoth along European and Kazakh waterways. I see trouble afoot.