Song picture
Le dormeur du val - A.Rimbaud [1]
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It involves setting to music the famous poem by Arthur Rimbaud, the famous French poet, by attempting to express an atmosphere consistent with what seems to me to be the feeling of the time. The story takes place in 1870, during a dirty war
pop rock romantic valley val sleeper unsafe area dormeur rimbaud 1870
Artist picture
Drifting iceberg A piece of ice floe With well-kept secrets beneath the surface of the water
Guitarist among other things, composer in these hours, traveler. From here and there, some charitable artists give me a helping hand, and I thank them all for their help. THANKS I hope to present two new titles to you shortly, then I'm off to admire the Pamirs from the road...
Song Info
Charts
#59 today Peak #1
#12 in subgenre Peak #1
Author
A Rimbaud
Uploaded
December 19, 2023
Track Files
MP3
MP3 8.3 MB 250 kbps 4:39
Meta Data
Beat
4/4
Key
Minor
Vocals
Male
Character
Energy
relaxed, cool
high-energy
Story behind the song
Words : Arthur Rimbaud Singer : My friend Alain Pesenti Music : Unsafe Area
Lyrics
(It is a green hollow where a stream gurgles, Crazily catching silver rags of itself on the grasses; Where the sun shines from the proud mountain: It is a little valley bubbling over with light. A young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed, With the nape of his neck bathed in cool blue cresses, Sleeps; he is stretched out on the grass, under the sky, Pale on his green bed where the light falls like rain. His feet in the yellow flags, he lies sleeping. Smiling as A sick child might smile, he is having a nap: Cradle him warmly, Nature: he is cold. No odour makes his nostrils quiver; He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his breast At peace. There are two red holes in his right side.) C'est un trou de verdure où chante une rivière, Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons D'argent ; où le soleil, de la montagne fière, Luit : c'est un petit val qui mousse de rayons. Un soldat jeune, bouche ouverte, tête nue, Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu, Dort ; il est étendu dans l'herbe, sous la nue, Pâle dans son lit vert où la lumière pleut. Les pieds dans les glaïeuls, il dort. Souriant comme Sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme : Nature, berce-le chaudement : il a froid. Les parfums ne font pas frissonner sa narine ; Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine, Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouges au côté droit.
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