In a green hollow where a river sings,
Moss sways wildly in ribbons of silver;
The sun shines down from haughty peaks—
The bright little vale is foaming with rays.
A young soldier, mouth open, head bare,
And neck cooled by blue watercress,
Sleeps. He lays on the grass, under the sky,
Pale in his green bed as light drizzles down.
Feet in the gladiolas, he sleeps. Smiling as
A sick child will smile, he took a nap:
Nature, cradle him warmly: he is cold.
The fragrant scents do not tempt his nose;
He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his chest,
Very still. There are two red holes in his right side.
— Arthur Rimbaud was a French poet -Translated by David Bowles
Fight Against Apartheid
