Within the grove, green treasure box flecked with gold,
Within the dim grove, and foliated
With dazzling flowers where a kiss slumbers,
Vivid and piercing the exquisite embroidery,
A timid faun raises his two eyes,
Chewing red flowers with his white teeth.
Browned and bloodied like aged wine
His lips burst with laughter beneath the branches.
And after he has fled -- like a squirrel –
His laughter still trembles on each leaf,
And one sees, disturbed by a bullfinch,
The golden kiss of the wood restoring itself.
There is a green dell where a river sings,
Clutching wildly at the foliage with
Rags of silver; where the sun lights the proud
Mountain; it’s a small valley, frothy with rays of the sun.
A young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed,
and the nape of his neck awash in the cool, blue watercress,
Sleeps; he lies in the grass, beneath the sky,
Pale in his green bed where the light is raining.
His feet amid the gladiolus, he sleeps.
Smiling as a sick child does, he takes a nap:
Nature, cradle him snugly: he is cold.
Fragrances no longer make his nostrils flutter;
He sleeps in the sun, his hand across his chest
Peacefully. There are two red holes in his right side.
On blue summer evenings, I’ll take to the trails,
Tickled by wheat, trampling sparse grass:
Dreamily, I’ll feel the freshness at my feet.
I’ll let the wind wash across my bare head!
I won’t speak, I won’t think about anything:
But an infinite love will rise within my soul,
And I’ll go further, much further, like a bohemian
Into nature - as happy as being with a woman.