The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDThe Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDThe Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDOnly divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDThe 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 RIMBAUDIn the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDAs I descended into impassable rivers I no longer felt guided by the ferrymen.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDI went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDAnd again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! – But the great Faith is Love!
ARTHUR RIMBAUDIdle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDWhat an old maid I’m getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!
ARTHUR RIMBAUDThe only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDTrue life is elsewhere.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDOnce, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDI am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDIt was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense, That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDIs it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD