{"id":32067,"date":"2020-06-05T17:29:52","date_gmt":"2020-06-05T15:29:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/?p=32067"},"modified":"2020-06-06T07:40:02","modified_gmt":"2020-06-06T05:40:02","slug":"arthur-rimbaud-le-dormeur-du-val","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/arthur-rimbaud-le-dormeur-du-val\/","title":{"rendered":"Arthur Rimbaud &#8211; Le Dormeur du Val"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>Bonjour!\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p>I would like to share with you all one of my favorite French poems by Arthur Rimbaud, <em>Le Dormeur du Val, \u00a0<\/em>The Sleeper of the Valley. Rimbaud wrote this poem in 1870 when he was just 16 years old, during the Franco-Prussian war. The English translation is below as well, but it simply doesn\u2019t do it justice, so I highly suggest trying to stick to the French and also listening to the audio!<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\"><strong><em>Le Dormeur du Val<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\"><em>C\u2019est un trou de verdure, o\u00f9 chante une rivi\u00e8re<\/em><br \/>\n<em>Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons<\/em><br \/>\n<em>D\u2019argent; o\u00f9 le soleil, de la montagne fi\u00e8re,<\/em><br \/>\n<em>Luit: c\u2019est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\"><em>Un soldat jeune, bouche ouverte, t\u00eate nue,<\/em><br \/>\n<em>Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu,<\/em><br \/>\n<em>Dort; il est \u00e9tendu dans l\u2019herbe, sous la nue,<\/em><br \/>\n<em>P\u00e2le dans son lit vert o\u00f9 la lumi\u00e8re pleut.<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\"><em>Les pieds dans les gla\u00efeuls, il dort. Souriant comme<\/em><br \/>\n<em>Sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme:<\/em><br \/>\n<em>Nature, berce-le chaudement: il a froid.<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\"><em>Les parfums ne font pas frissonner sa narine;<\/em><br \/>\n<em>Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine,<\/em><br \/>\n<em>Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouges au c\u00f4t\u00e9 droit.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"RIMBAUD, Arthur - Le Dormeur du Val.\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/8kBXnq15Ijw?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<div class=\"par\">\n<div style=\"text-align: center\"><strong>The Sleeper of the Valley<\/strong><\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>\n<div class=\"par\">\n<div class=\"ll-0-1\" style=\"text-align: center\">It&#8217;s a green hollow where a river sings<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-0-2\" style=\"text-align: center\">Clinging madly to the grasses with its rags<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-0-3\" style=\"text-align: center\">Of silver, where the sun, from the proud mountain,<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-0-4\" style=\"text-align: center\">Shines; it&#8217;s a little valley, bubbling with sunlight.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"emptyline\" style=\"text-align: center\"><\/div>\n<div class=\"par\">\n<div>\n<div class=\"par\" style=\"text-align: center\">\n<div class=\"ll-1-1\">A young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-1-2\">And the nape of his neck bathing in cool blue watercress,<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-1-3\">Sleeps; he&#8217;s stretched out in the grass, under the sky,<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-1-4\">Pale in his green bed where the light falls like rain.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"emptyline\" style=\"text-align: center\"><\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div class=\"par\">\n<div>\n<div class=\"par\" style=\"text-align: center\">\n<div class=\"ll-2-1\">His feet in the gladiolas, he sleeps. Smiling as<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-2-2\">a sick child would smile, he takes a nap.<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-2-3\">Nature, cradle him warmly: he is cold.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"emptyline\" style=\"text-align: center\"><\/div>\n<div class=\"par\">\n<div>\n<div class=\"par\">\n<div class=\"ll-3-1\" style=\"text-align: center\">No perfume makes his nostrils quiver;<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-3-2\" style=\"text-align: center\">He sleeps in the sun, hand on his chest,<\/div>\n<div class=\"ll-3-3\" style=\"text-align: center\">Quiet. There are two red holes on his right side.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>\n<div id=\"attachment_32068\" style=\"width: 276px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter post-item__attachment\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-32068\" class=\"wp-image-32068 size-medium\" src=\"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/3\/2020\/06\/Rimbaud-266x350.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"266\" height=\"350\" \/><p id=\"caption-attachment-32068\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Rimbaud at 17<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div>One of my favorite things about this poem is the positioning that you find yourself in as you move from verse to verse. I imagine the scene getting closer until the truth is revealed; starting from the valley, to the water, to the gladiolas, to finally close enough to see the bullet holes in his chest. It creeps up on you both in a physical sense and a figurative sense; when you read the beautiful scenery, you do not immediately imagine the gruesome reality of war that is revealed in the last sentence. It is a symbolic representation of both life and death, and a stark criticism of war.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>Rimbaud recognized early on his desire to be a poet, and in a letter written to his teacher Georges Izambard, he explains his process and desire:<\/div>\n<div>\n<dl>\n<dd><i>Je veux \u00eatre po\u00e8te, et je travaille \u00e0 me rendre voyant\u00a0: vous ne comprendrez pas du tout, et je ne saurais presque vous expliquer. Il s&#8217;agit d&#8217;arriver \u00e0 l&#8217;inconnu par le d\u00e9r\u00e8glement de tous les sens. Les souffrances sont \u00e9normes, mais il faut \u00eatre fort, \u00eatre n\u00e9 po\u00e8te, et je me suis reconnu po\u00e8te. Ce n&#8217;est pas du tout ma faute. C&#8217;est faux de dire\u00a0: Je pense\u00a0: on devrait dire\u00a0: On me pense. \u2212 Pardon du jeu de mots. \u2212 Je est un autre. Tant pis pour le bois qui se trouve violon, et nargue aux inconscients, qui ergotent sur ce qu&#8217;ils ignorent tout \u00e0 fait\u00a0!<\/i><\/dd>\n<\/dl>\n<p>Translated:<\/p>\n<dl>\n<dd>I wish to be a poet, and I am working to make myself into a seer: you will not understand at all, and I would not nearly know how to explain it to you. It&#8217;s a question of coming to the unknown through the disordering of all the senses. The suffering is enormous, but one must be strong, be born a poet, and I have come to terms with my destiny as a poet. It&#8217;s not at all my fault. It&#8217;s wrong to say &#8220;I think&#8221;; one ought to say &#8220;I am being thought&#8221; &#8211; Forgive the play on words &#8211; I is another. Too bad for the wood which finds itself a violin, and brush off the oblivious, who quibble over things they know nothing about!<\/dd>\n<\/dl>\n<p>Rimbaud became a vagabond shortly after, running away from home and delving deep into his art. In 1871 he started a torrid affair with another famous French poet, Paul Verlaine, which resulted in him being shot by Verlaine and fearing for his life. He survived the wound to his wrist and with Verlaine in jail, he continued his travels, eventually abandoning writing and dying of osteosarcoma in 1891 at the age of 37. His symbolist writings and poetry prefigured the surrealist movement. Just as he wrote to his teacher; he was destined to forever be revered as an influential poet and writer.<\/p>\n<p><em>A la prochaine!<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Bonjour!\u00a0 I would like to share with you all one of my favorite French poems by Arthur Rimbaud, Le Dormeur du Val, \u00a0The Sleeper of the Valley. Rimbaud wrote this poem in 1870 when he was just 16 years old, during the Franco-Prussian war. The English translation is below as well, but it simply doesn\u2019t&hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"post-item__readmore\"><a class=\"btn btn--md\" href=\"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/arthur-rimbaud-le-dormeur-du-val\/\">Continue Reading<\/a><\/p>","protected":false},"author":166,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"content-type":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32067","post","type-post","status-publish","hentry","category-culture"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32067","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/166"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=32067"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32067\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":32078,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32067\/revisions\/32078"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=32067"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=32067"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/french\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=32067"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}