It is a green hollow where a stream gurgles, Crazily catching silver rags of itself on the grasses; Where the sun shines from the proud mountain: It is a little valley bubbling over with light.
A young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed, With the nape of his neck bathed in cool blue cresses, Sleeps; he is stretched out on the grass, under the sky, Pale on his green bed where the light falls like rain.
His feet in the yellow flags, he lies sleeping. Smiling as A sick child might smile, he is having a nap: Cradle him warmly, Nature: he is cold.
No odour makes his nostrils quiver; He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his breast At peace. There are two red holes in his right side.
That is so spot on. That last line caught me unawares. Only you could come up with a poem that relevant to what I wrote. You actually " get it ". Impressed !
The Sleeper in the Valley
ReplyDeleteIt is a green hollow where a stream gurgles,
Crazily catching silver rags of itself on the grasses;
Where the sun shines from the proud mountain:
It is a little valley bubbling over with light.
A young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed,
With the nape of his neck bathed in cool blue cresses,
Sleeps; he is stretched out on the grass, under the sky,
Pale on his green bed where the light falls like rain.
His feet in the yellow flags, he lies sleeping. Smiling as
A sick child might smile, he is having a nap:
Cradle him warmly, Nature: he is cold.
No odour makes his nostrils quiver;
He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his breast
At peace. There are two red holes in his right side.
Arthur Rimbaud
October 1870
That is so spot on. That last line caught me unawares. Only you could come up with a poem that relevant to what I wrote. You actually " get it ". Impressed !
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