In a little post-box
Letters await Rimbaud,
Poet of Ardennes
Who died so long ago.
Only in his verses,
Will he arise again
Where blue air washes flowers
Beyond his window-sill.
And does he listen still
To those two loving sisters
Whose lashes darkly fluttered
Below the scented silence,
His trance engendered
By their smell of rosy honey
As, poised above his head,
With skilful silver fingers
They cracked the lice
Within his hair
As he lay in his bed.
His trance engendered! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what a charming piece here Tom...a beautiful flow to it..and the history to it is amazing..... Annette
To be honest, though I know Rimbaud's poems well, I hadn't heard this story until last week. It was in the Daily Mail Travel Section! advertising the forests of the Ardennes in the very North of France. Some bits of my poem are based on one of Rimbaud's poems which describes with affection his big sisters delousing his hair! It sounds like he had two lovely guardian Angels there!