Ma Boheme - Poem by Arthur Rimbaud
I went off with my hands in my torn coat pockets; my overcoat too was
I travelled beneath the sky, Muse! and I was your vassel; oh dear me!
what marvellous loves I dreamed of!
My only pair of breeches had a big hole in them.- Stargazing Tom
Thumb, I sowed rhymes along the way.
My tavern was at the Sign of the Great Bear. - My stars in the sky
And I listened to them, sitting on the road-sides on those pleasant
September evenings while I felt drops of dew on my forehead like
and while, rhyming among the fantastical shadows, I plucked like the
strings of a lyre the elastics of my tattered boots, one foot close to my
Comments about Ma Boheme by Arthur Rimbaud
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You