Rimbaud-Poem

At four o'clock on a summer's morning,

love still sleeps.

The odors of the evening's revels evaporate

under the bushes.

Far off, in their great construction site

in the Hesperidean sun,

the carpenters are already

stripped for action.

In their mossy deserts,

they tranquilly prepare

the precious panels

on which the city will paint a false heaven.

Oh, for these charming workmen,

subjects of the King of Babylon,

Venus, leave for a moment your lovers

whose souls are crowned.

Queen of Shepherds,

bring the workers the water of life,

to calm their strength as they wait to swim

in the sea at noontide.