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Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea.

Arthur Rimbaud

But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Bitter Cry Heart Broken Moon Myself Sun True
And from that time on I bathed in the Poem Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk, Devouring the green azures; where, entranced in pallid flotsam, A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Dreams Man Myself Poem Sea Time
O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Enchantment Flaw Myself Season Soul
True life is elsewhere.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Life One Liner True
One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Beautiful Bitter Evening Myself Taste
The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Pain Poet
Yet this is the watch by night. Let us all accept new strength, and real tenderness. And at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the cities of glory.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Acceptance Glory Night Patience Reality Strength Tender
Is it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Night Sleep Yourself
It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Beginning Myself Night Research Silence
The poet makes himself a voyant through a long, immense reasoned deranging of all his senses. All the forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he tries to find himself, he exhausts in himself all the poisons, to keep only their quintessences.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Journey Poet Poison Travel
Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? – Through whose blood am I to wade ?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Blood Break Heart Lying Myself
Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Endurance Force Life
It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense, That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Body Break Human Mad Soft Voice
You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Feeling Life Lips Small Yourself
I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Dance Gold Myself Rope Star Window
What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Unknown Wait Yourself

Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea.

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Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea.

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