Against a fall of snow, a Being Beauiful, and very tall.
Whistlings of death and circles of faint music
Make this adored body, swelling and trembling
Like a specter, rise...
Black and scarlet gashes burst in the gleaming flesh.
The true colors of life grow dark,
Shimmering and sperate
In the scaffolding, around the Vision.
Shiverings mutter and rise,
And the furious taste of these effects is charged
With deadly whistlings and the raucous music
That the world, far behind us, hurls at our mother of beauty...
She retreats, she rises up...
Oh! Our bones have put on new flesh, for love.
Oh ash-white face
Oh tousled hair
O crystal arms!
On this cannot I mean to destroy myself
In a swirling of trees and soft air!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Being Beauteous by Arthur Rimbaud )
- Boy last, hasmukh amathalal
- Goodbyes Are Hard, Sayli Satam
- I LOVE PARIS, Terry Collett
- Unrhymed, Naveed Khalid
- One glass one heart, Abdullah alHemaidy
- ABOUT ABELA, Terry Collett
- Autumn Leave, Abdullah alHemaidy
- Roses, Jerusha Melanie
- Circumstances and I, gajanan mishra
- sleep tight in Idaho tonight, Mandolyn ...
Poem of the Day
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Trees, Joyce Kilmer
- A Thought, Robert Louis Stevenson
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Alone, Maya Angelou
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)