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It is a green hollow where a river sings,
Madly catching silver rags upon the grass;
Where the sun, from the proud mountain,
Shines: it is a little valley foaming with light.
A young soldier, mouth open, head bare,
The nape of his neck bathed in cool blue cress,
Sleeps; he lies stretched out in the grass, under the sky,
Pale in his green bed where the light rains down.
His feet among the gladioli, he sleeps. Smiling as
A sick child would smile, he is taking a nap:
Nature, cradle him warmly: he is cold.
No scent makes his nostrils quiver;
He sleeps in the sun, his hand upon his chest,
At peace. He has two red holes in his right side.
Arthur Rimbaud
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-the-sleeper-in-the-valley-arthur-rimbaud/