Frenchman’s bread

He use to take a bread
Always for the house,
He never looked at the Eiffel Tower,
Neither to Seine River.
We got jealous therefore
And we bought bread
And immediately our old recollections came back.
I remembered that in my village 
Bringing home bread from the Bakery,
But in Paris they have it as custom,
As a fashion.
But what kind bread is this?
What aroma? What a flavored?
Maybe Gods sent on top of a Pegasus?
You eat it and you eat it and you eat it again,
But you never satisfy,
The more you eat,
The more hungry you becoming.
As you eating palaces grows left and right
But its like don’t existed,
The flavored of the bread overtake them, 
Even if we got lost in the city,
We walk as eating our bread.
Even now we still smell that delicious bread
Remembering Paris …and our small village.