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THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
by Robert Louis STEVENSON
When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane
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BED IN SUMMER
by Robert Louis STEVENSON
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
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LES
VALLEES DU SONGE
par Constantin BALMONT
J'irai dans les vallées du songe
Où des fleurs s'ouvrent en penchant
Là bas, là bas, la lune plonge
Du haut des abîmes géants
Obliquement la lune plonge
D'un bond qui n'en finit jamais
Dans les sourdes vallées du songe
S'exhale un opium épais
Là bas vibre une corde étrange
Mais l'archet ne l'a pas frôlée
L'âme dans les vallées du songe
Au cœur de l'onde illimitée
Obliquement la lune plonge
D'un bond qui n'en finit jamais
Dans les sourdes vallées du songe
S'exhale un opium épais
J'irai dans les vallées du songe
Où des fleurs s'ouvrent en penchant
Là bas, là bas, la lune plonge
Du haut des abîmes géants
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