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You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.

Arthur Rimbaud

Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Celebration Heart Life Myself Open Remember Wine
What an old maid I’m getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Courage Death Love Myself Old
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
As for me, I am intact; and I don’t care.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Care Myself Philosophy
A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn’t he?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Imitation Mad Man Weird
Morality is the weakness of the mind.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Mindset Moral Weakness
The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Pain Poet
The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Kiss Light Rise Sea
Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Childhood Discover Genius
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
And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! – But the great Faith is Love!
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Faith God Greatness Love Man Philosophy
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Burn Dreams Inspirational Myself One Liner Soft
Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Best Country Drink Hate Myself Sleep
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
One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Beautiful Bitter Evening Myself Taste
I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Myself Sky Under

You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.

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You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.

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