In a somber alcove
Near a humble altar,
A child sleeps in the shadow
Of his mother's bed;
while he rests,
his pink eyelids,
shut to the world,
are open to heaven.

His dreams are with him deeply;
he sees at various times
the sand of a pebbly beach
covered in diamonds,
the sun in flames,
and beautiful ladies
who are carrying souls
in their lovely arms.

It is a dream that will enchant you!
He sees brooks; 
A voice sings out
from the depths of the waters.
His sisters are more lovely;
His father is there with them ;
His mother has wings
like birds do.

 ... 

Without care, without consideration,
you sleep on this road;
And anxiety
with its cold hand
and dull talons
on your guileless brow
without a single wrinkle
Does not write "tomorrow!"