Arthur Rimbaud

(20 October 1854 – 10 November 1891 / Charleville, Ardennes)

Arthur Rimbaud Poems

1. To The Poet On The Subject Of Flowers 4/3/2010
2. Stages (Scenes) 4/3/2010
3. The Accursed Cherub 4/3/2010
4. Les Effarés 4/3/2010
5. Lips Shut. Seen In Rome 4/3/2010
6. Stupra Ii 4/3/2010
7. May Banners 4/3/2010
8. Lilies 4/3/2010
9. State Of Siege 4/3/2010
10. The Customs Men 4/3/2010
11. Working People 4/3/2010
12. Feasts Of Hunger 4/3/2010
13. Vigils 4/3/2010
14. Tear 4/3/2010
15. The Cupboard 4/3/2010
16. Promontory 4/3/2010
17. The Sideboard 4/3/2010
18. The Ancient Beasts 4/3/2010
19. Morts De Quatre-Vingt-Douze (Dead Of '92) 4/3/2010
20. Song Of The Highest Tower 4/3/2010
21. What One Says To The Poet On The Subject Of Flowers 4/3/2010
22. Winter Festival 4/3/2010
23. The Sly One 4/3/2010
24. Young Greedyguts 4/3/2010
25. The Sisters Of Charity 4/3/2010
26. Ruts 4/3/2010
27. First Communions 4/3/2010
28. Genie 4/3/2010
29. Ma Boheme 4/3/2010
30. Tartufe's Punishment 4/3/2010
31. Paroxysms Of Caesars (Rages De Césars) 4/3/2010
32. Tale 4/3/2010
33. Parisian War Song 4/3/2010
34. Squattings 4/3/2010
35. The Stolen Heart 4/3/2010
36. The Parents 4/3/2010
37. Golden Age 4/3/2010
38. People In Church 4/3/2010
39. Vowels 4/3/2010
40. Metropolitan 4/3/2010
Best Poem of Arthur Rimbaud

Novel

I.

No one's serious at seventeen.
--On beautiful nights when beer and lemonade
And loud, blinding cafés are the last thing you need
--You stroll beneath green lindens on the promenade.

Lindens smell fine on fine June nights!
Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes;
The wind brings sounds--the town is near--
And carries scents of vineyards and beer. . .

II.

--Over there, framed by a branch
You can see a little patch of dark blue
Stung by a sinister star that fades
With faint quiverings, so small and white. . ...

Read the full of Novel

Drunken Morning

Oh, my Beautiful! Oh, my Good!
Hideous fanfare where yet I do not stumble!
Oh, rack of enchantments!
For the first time, hurrah for the unheard-of work,
For the marvelous body! For the first time!
It began with the laughter of children, and there it will end.
This poison will stay in our veins even when, as the fanfares depart,
We return to our former disharmony.
Oh, now, we who are so worthy of these tortures!

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