A Dream for Winter In the winter, we shall travel in a little pink railway carriageWith blue cushions.We shall be comfortable. A nest of mad kisses lies in waitIn each soft corner. You will close your eyes, so as not to see, through the glass,The evening shadows pulling faces.Those snarling monsters, a populationOf black devils… Continue reading Arthur Rimbaud
Then you’ll feel your cheek scratched…A little kiss, like a crazy spider,Will run round your neck… And you’ll say to me : “Find it !” bending your head– And we’ll take a long time to find that creature– Which travels a lot… ― Arthur Rimbaud, Collected Poems (1962)
He would say, ‘How funny it will all seem, all you’ve gone through, when I’m not here anymore, when you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes, because I will have to go away some day, far away…’ And in that instant I… Continue reading Arthur Rimbaud
Evening prayer I spend my life sitting, like an angel in a barber’s chair,Holding a beer mug with deep-cut designs,My neck and gut both bent, while in the airA weightless veil of pipe smoke hangs. Like steaming dung within an old dovecoteA thousand Dreams within me softly burn:From time to time my heart is like… Continue reading Arthur Rimbaud
It is found again.What? Eternity.It is the seaGone with the sun. — Arthur Rimbaud, from “L’Éternite” (1872), Collected Poems. Trans. Oliver Bernard. (1962).
The first study for the man who wants to be a poet is knowledge of himself, complete: he searches for his soul, he inspects it, he puts it to the test, he learns it. As soon as he has learned it, he must cultivate it! I say that one must be a seer, make oneself… Continue reading Arthur Rimbaud
A tap of your finger on the drum releases all sounds and initiates the new harmony. A step of yours is the conscription of the new men and their marching orders. You look away: the new love! You look back,—the new love! “Change our fates, shoot down the plagues, beginning with time,” the children sing… Continue reading Arthur Rimbaud
One evening, I sat Beauty in my lap. — And I found her bitter. — And I reviled her. — Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell: Prologue. Originally published in 1873 by French writer Arthur Rimbaud. It is the only work that was published by Rimbaud himself.
Eternity It has been found again. What? – Eternity. It is the sea fled away With the sun. Sentinel soul, Let us whisper the confession Of the night full of nothingness And the day on fire. From humain approbation, From common urges You diverge here And fly off as you may. Since from you alone,… Continue reading Arthur Rimbaud
I am the soul in agony. This passion is mine. — Arthur Rimbaud, from “The Savior Bumped Upon His Heavy Butt,” Arthur Rimbaud: Complete Works. (HarperCollins; 1st edition, March 1, 1975)