First home baked poem.

I dreamed of Erika Forster from Au revoir Simone
She was cooking for me some lovely cupcakes
Each one of them was lovely but deformed
Like the true love when it's fake.


She approached her beautiful long hair and said gracefully in my ear :
 - Hey man, no mistake,
La légende des siècles ne vaut pas un steak."
That means : 
A fucking old book don't worth a piece of meat.