"The real trick to life is not to be in the know, but to be in the mystery."
-Fred Alan Wolf

20 October 2016

Happy birthday, Rimbaud.

Arthur Rimbaud was born on this day in 1854.

A taste of ashes flies through the air; -- an odor of sweating wood on the hearth, -- dew-ret flowers, -- devastation along the promenades, -- the mist of the canals over the fields -- why not incense and toys already?

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.

The upland pond smokes continuously. What witch will rise against the white west sky? What violet frondescence fall?

While public funds evaporate in feasts of fraternity, a bell of rosy fire rings in the clouds.

Reviving a pleasant taste of India ink, a black powder rains on my vigil. I lower the jets of the chandelier, I throw myself on my bed, and turning my face towards the darkness, I see you, my daughters! My queens!

Arthur Rimbaud

No comments: