It is a green hollow where a river sings,
Madly clinging to the grasses with its silver rags;
Where the sun shines on the proud mountain,
It is a little valley bubbling with rays of light.
A young soldier, mouth open, head bare,
And neck bathing in the cool blue cress,
Sleeps; he is stretched out on the grass, under the sky,
Pale in his green bed where the light rains down.
His feet among the gladiolas, he sleeps. Smiling as
A sick child would smile, he is taking a nap:
Nature, cradle him warmly: he is cold.
The scents do not make his nostrils quiver;
He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his chest,
Calm. He has two red holes in his right side.