Arthur Rimbaud,
The Sleeper in the Valley
“ And the nape of his neck bathing in cool blue watercress, Sleeping; he is stretched out on the grass, under the skies, Pale in his green bed where the light falls like rain. Feet in the gladiolas, he is sleeping. Smiling like A sick child would smile, he takes a nap: Nature, rock him warmly: he is cold. ”
“ Croulent les bataillons en masse dans le feu; Tandis qu'une folie épouvantable broie Et fait de cent milliers d'hommes un tas fumant; – Pauvres morts! dans l'été, dans l'herbe, dans ta joie, Nature! ô toi qui fis ces hommes saintement! ”
“ Or peaceful pastures flecked with beasts – furrows of peace Imprinted on our brows as if by alchemies; Blue O, great Trumpet blaring strange and piercing cries Through Silences where Worlds and Angels pass crosswise ”
