Arthur Rimbaud Poems

And so the Mother, shutting up the duty book,
Went, proud and satisfied. She did not see the look
In the blue eyes, or how with secret loathing wild,
Beneath the prominent brow, a soul raged in her child.
...

I.
Clear water; [stinging] like the salt of a child's tears,
the whiteness of women's bodies attacking the sun;
...

For a whole week I had ripped up my boots
on the stones of the roads.
I walked into Charleroi. -Into the Green Inn:
...

When the world comes down to this one dark wood
Before our four astonished eyes...
To a beach for two faithful children...
To a house of music, for our clear accord...
...

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.
...

Gracious son of Pan! Around your forehead
crowned with flowerets
and with laurel, restlessly roll
those precious balls, your eyes.
...

A winding movement on the slope beside the rapids of the river.
The abyss at the stern,
The swiftness of the incline,
The overwhelming passage of the tide,
...

I am an ephemeral
and a not too discontented citizen
of a metropolis considered modern
because all known taste
...

I only find within my bones, A taste for eating earth and stones.
When I feed, I feed on air, Rocks and coals and iron ore.
...