On this Friday 25 March, the 14th day of the "Printemps des Poètes", we share one of the favourite poems of our colleague, Clémentine BALLAND.
LE DORMEUR DU VAL
It is a green hole where a river sings,
Clinging madly to the grass with silver rags
Of silver; where the sun, from the proud mountain,
Gleams: it is a little valley foaming with rays.
A young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed,
And his neck bathed in fresh blue watercress,
Sleeps; he lies in the grass, under the cloud,
Pale in his green bed where the light rains.
With his feet in the gladioli, he sleeps. Smiling like a sick child
A sick child smiles, he snoozes:
Nature, rock him warmly: he is cold.
Perfumes do not make his nostrils tingle;
He sleeps in the sun, with his hand on his chest,
Quiet. He has two red holes in his right side.