He was a soldier, a young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed, his nape bathed in the cool blue cresses. He's lying on the grass under the clouds, pale in his green bed where light falls like rain. His feet amidst the gladioli, he sleeps. Nature, hold him warmly. He is cold. Perfumes don't make his nose quiver. He sleeps in the sun one hand on his chest, tranquil. He has two red holes in his right side.