Friends Poem by Arthur Rimbaud
Friends
Rating: ★2.7
Come, the Wines are off to the seaside,
and the waves by the million!
Look at wild Bitter rolling from the mountain tops!
Let us reach, like good pilgrims, green-pillared Absinthe…
Myself: No more of these landscapes.
What is drunkenness, friends?
I had soon - rather, even - rot in the pond,
beneath the horrible scum, near the floating driftwood.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
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4/24/2024 10:33:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
