Arthur Rimbaud

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

Arthur Rimbaud Poems

1. Le Châtiment De Tartufe 4/3/2010
2. The Famous Victory Of Saarbrucken 4/3/2010
3. The Old Guard 4/3/2010
4. Tartufe's Punishment 4/3/2010
5. The Accursed Cherub 4/3/2010
6. Squattings 4/3/2010
7. Stages (Scenes) 4/3/2010
8. Les Effarés 4/3/2010
9. Lips Shut. Seen In Rome 4/3/2010
10. May Banners 4/3/2010
11. Stupra Ii 4/3/2010
12. Working People 4/3/2010
13. The Transfixed 4/3/2010
14. Vigils 4/3/2010
15. State Of Siege 4/3/2010
16. The Customs Men 4/3/2010
17. The Parents 4/3/2010
18. Lives 4/3/2010
19. Lilies 4/3/2010
20. Historic Evening 4/3/2010
21. The Cupboard 4/3/2010
22. The Sideboard 4/3/2010
23. Tear 4/3/2010
24. Promontory 4/3/2010
25. The Ancient Beasts 4/3/2010
26. The Sun Has Wept Rose 4/3/2010
27. The Sly One 4/3/2010
28. Winter Festival 4/3/2010
29. Morts De Quatre-Vingt-Douze (Dead Of '92) 4/3/2010
30. First Communions 4/3/2010
31. Genie 4/3/2010
32. Clearance Sale 4/3/2010
33. What One Says To The Poet On The Subject Of Flowers 4/3/2010
34. The Sisters Of Charity 4/3/2010
35. Ruts 4/3/2010
36. Side Show 4/3/2010
37. Song Of The Highest Tower 4/3/2010
38. The Seekers Of Lice 4/3/2010
39. Young Greedyguts 4/3/2010
40. Common Nocturne 4/3/2010
Best Poem of Arthur Rimbaud

Asleep In The Valley

A small green valley where a slow stream flows
And leaves long strands of silver on the bright
Grass; from the mountaintop stream the Sun's
Rays; they fill the hollow full of light.

A soldier, very young, lies open-mouthed,
A pillow made of fern beneath his head,
Asleep; stretched in the heavy undergrowth,
Pale in his warm, green, sun-soaked bed.

His feet among the flowers, he sleeps. His smile
Is like an infant's - gentle, without guile.
Ah, Nature, keep him warm; he may catch cold.

The humming insects don't disturb his rest;
He sleeps in ...

Read the full of Asleep In The Valley

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!

[Hata Bildir]