Long after the days and the seasons, and people and countries.
The banner of raw meat against the silk of seas and arctic flowers;
(they do not exist). Recovered from the old fanfares of heroism,--
which still attack the heart and head,-- far from the old assassins.
-- Oh! the banner of raw meat against the silk of seas and arctic flowers;
(they do not exist).-- Bliss! Live embers raining in gusts of frost.--
Bliss!-- fires in the rain of the wind of diamonds
flung out by the earth's heart eternally carbonized for us.
-- O world! (Far from the old retreats and the old flames, still heard, still felt.)
Fire and foam. Magic, veering of chasms and clash of icicles against the stars.
O bliss, O world, O music! And forms, sweat, eyes
and long hair floating there. And white tears boiling,--
O bliss!-- and the feminine voice reaching to the bottom of volcanoes
and grottos of the arctic seas. The banner...
Arthur Rimbaud's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Barbarian by Arthur Rimbaud )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley