Enamored.

SONG of the HIGHEST TOWER

Idle youth

Enslaved to everything,

By being too sensitive

I have wasted my life.

Ah! Let the time come

When hearts are enamored.

I said to myself: let be,

And let no one see you:

Do without the promise

Of higher joys.

Let nothing delay you,

Majestic retirement.

I have endured so long

That I have forgotten everything;

Fear and suffering

Have flown to the skies.

And morbid thirst

Darkens my veins.

Thus the meadow

Given over to oblivion,

Grown up, and flowering

With frankincense and tares

To the wild buzzing

Of a hundred filthy flies.

Oh! the thousand bereavements

Of the poor soul

Which possesses only the image

Of Our Lady!

Can one pray

To the Virgin Mary?

Idle youth

Enslaved by everything,

By being too sensitive

I have wasted my life.

Ah! Let the time come

When hearts are enamored!

Arthur Rimbaud