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Idle youth, enslaved to everything by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.

Arthur Rimbaud

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Arthur Rimbaud
Age: 37 †
Born: 1854
Born: October 20
Died: 1891
Died: November 10
Arms Trader
Explorer
Poet
World Traveler
Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud
Jean Nicholas Arthur Rimbaud
Sensitive
Youth
Everything
Time
Life
Enslaved
Wasted
Idle

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The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses
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But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
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Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
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I am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.
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Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
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-But I've just noticed that my mind is asleep.
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. . . be absolute moderne.
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No one's serious at seventeen.
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You will always be a hyena.
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You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.
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What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
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I wrote silences nights I recorded the unnameable.
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I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent
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Yet this is the watch by night. Let us all accept new strength, and real tenderness. And at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the cities of glory.
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It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense,/ That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.
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Oh! If only we were naked now, and free to watch our protruding parts align To whisper - both of us - in ecstasy!
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Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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