a daily challenge, are you game? it’s monday morning; i don’t know about you, but sometimes it is hard to get going.
today, try finding a way to celebrate you, another person close to you, or hey, a few people close to you! or even a stranger. for yourself, treat yourself to something special.
being lazy for an hour, lying under a tree, taking a bath, downloading some music, looking through old photos. something you haven’t done in a while.
for someone close to you, leave them a funny note, point out something wonderful going on for them at the moment, leave them a funny voicenote. post a picture of them and say something wonderful, for all to see.
for a stranger it can be something so small, compliment them, their outfit, look them in the eyes and smile.
i bet if you do only one of these things today, it will be a much better day.
monday! a great way to start the week and ignore the fact that it is a little bit harder to wake up.
le dormeur du val 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, pale 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 plus frissonner sa narine; il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine tranquille. il a deux trous rouges au coté droit.
the sleeper in the valley it’s a green hollow where a river sings madly catching white tatters in the grass. where the sun on the proud mountain rings: it’s a little valley, foaming like light in a glass.
a conscript, open-mouthed, his bare head and bare neck bathed in the cool blue cress, sleeps: stretched out, under the sky, on grass, pale where the light rains down on his green bed.
feet in the yellow flags, he sleeps. smiling as a sick child might smile, he’s dozing. nature, rock him warmly: he is cold.
the scents no longer make his nostrils twitch: he sleeps in the sunlight, one hand on his chest, tranquil. in his right side, there are two red holes.
october 1870 age 16
beautiful & brilliant. the symbolism and wordplay is genius.