In this poem, Arthur Rimbaud talks about the work of the poorest while the richest are still sleeping.
Good morning thought
At four o’clock in the morning, in summer,
The sleep of love still lasts.
Under the groves, the dawn evaporates
The smell of the celebrated evening.
But over there in the immense construction site
Towards the sun of the Hesperides,
In their shirtsleeves, the carpenters
In their desert of moss, quiet,
They prepare the precious panelling
Where the wealth of the city
I will laugh under false skies.
Ah! for these charming workers
Subjects of a king of Babylon,
Venus! leaves the Lovers a little
Whose soul is in the crown
O Queen of the Shepherds!
Carry to the workers the brandy.
So that their forces are at peace
While waiting for the bath in the sea, at noon.