Against snow, a tall Beautiful Being. Whistlings of death and circles of muffled music make this adored body rise, swell and tremble like a ghost; scarlet and black wounds open in the magnificent flesh.
Arthur RimbaudEvening 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 air
A weightless veil of pipe smoke hangs.
Like steaming dung within an old dovecote
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn:
From time to time my heart is like some oak
Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
And then, when I have swallowed down my Dreams
In thirty, forty mugs of beer, I turn
To satisfy a need I can't ignore,
And like the Lord of Hyssop and of Myrrh
I piss into the skies, a soaring stream
That consecrates a patch of flowering fern.
На седемнадесет човек е само млад.
Arthur RimbaudC'était comme une nuit d'hiver, avec une neige pour étouffer le monde décidément.
Arthur RimbaudIs it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?
Arthur RimbaudEternas ondinas,
dividid el agua fina.
Venus, del azul hermana,
conmueve las puras aguas.
Judío errante en Noruega,
dime, ¿cómo nieva?
Viejos exiliados tiernos,
contadme el océano.
YO-. Nunca esas bebidas puras,
ni esas flores de florero,
ni leyendas, ni figuras,
saciarme pudieron.
Coplista, tu ahijada
es mi sed que se desboca,
hidra íntima sin bocas
que roe y devasta.
Mots clés poetry
And from then on I bathed in the Poem
Of the Sea, infused with stars and lactescent,
Devouring the green azure where, like a pale elated
Piece of flotsam, a pensive drowned figure sometimes sinks;
Where, suddenly dyeing the blueness, delirium
And slow rhythms under the streaking of daylight,
Stronger than alcohol, vaster than our lyres,
The bitter redness of love ferments!
Mots clés love
إنّ كل ما تعلّمنا زائف
Arthur RimbaudElle est retrouvée!
Quoi? -l'Éternité.
C'est la mer allée
Avec le soleil.
Mots clés eternity
Afficher la citation en allemand
Montrer la citation en français
Montrer la citation en italien
Моя жизнь истощилась. Ну что ж! Притворяться и бездельничать будем, - о жалость!
Arthur Rimbaud« ; premier précédent
Page 15 de 17.
suivant dernier » ;
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.