Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Thought of the day -- Arthur Rimbaud 

What do we care, my heart, for sheets of blood
And fire, for a thousand murders and endless screams
Of rage, sobs of hell, order destroyed in a flood
Of fire; and still the North wind across the wreckage;

And all this vengeance? Is Nothing! -- But still, yes,
We desire it! Lords of industry, princes, senates,
Perish! Power, justice, history: die!
You owe us that. Blood! blood! the golden flame!

Of war, of vengeance, of terror, dream on,
My soul! Let us turn in the wound: Ah! Fall,
Republics of this world! Emperors,
Regiments, colonists, peoples -- enough!

Who should stir the whirlwinds of furious flame
But we and those who seem to be our brothers?
It's our turn, friends of legend: forget
The others. Never shall we work, O waves of fire!

Europe, Asia, America -- vanish!
Our march of vengeance has occupied every place,
The city and the country! -- We shall be crushed!
The volcanoes will explode! And the Ocean, assaulted...

Oh! my friends! -- My heart, be calm, they are brothers;
Dark strangers, if we could begin! Come on! Come on!
-- Disaster! I feel myself tremble; the old earth,
On me who am more and more yours! the earth dissolves.

It is nothing: I am here -- I am still here.


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