The dream goes on...

The child lies on the damp grass of the night
looking at the stars that pulsate in the dark infinity.
My son! you're too old to be playing with a wooden horse!
You're tall and you'll be a soldier!
In the dream, pass the brightly coloured hussars,
dragons covered in gold and blood,
old hands bent over all battles,
history at full gallop, poor horse carcass,
in the ukrainian plains and andalusian sierras ...
Fall asleep brave child under a sky  
that smells of hops and gunpowder!
Boy, all day long, heart beating in your chest ,
''Vive l'empereur!''
You'll wake up at Waterloo station, between a scot gray 
and a polish lancer, the little drum at your side
like shattered orphan, slowly sobbling ... 
A compassionate virgin takes your body in her arms ...
The dream goes on...