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Sensation
© Drita Klosi / Klosi News
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“The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.”
Arthur Rimbaud
Sensation
On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass:
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.
I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing:
But endless love will mount in my soul;
And I shall travel far, very far, like a gipsy,
Through the countryside - as happy as if I were with a woman.
Being Beauteous
Against the snow of Being a high-statured Beauty. Whistlings of death and circles of secret music make the adored body, like a specter, rise, expand, and quiver; wounds of black and scarlet burst in the superb flesh. - Life's own colors darken, dance, and drift around the Vision in the making. - Shudders rise and rumble, and the delerious savor of these effects clashing with the deadly hissings and the hoarse music that the world, far behind us, hurls at our mother of beauty, - she recoils, she rears up. Oh, our bones are clothed with an amorous new body.
O the ashy faces, the crined escutcheon, the crystal arms! the cannon on which I am to fall in the melee of trees and of light air!
To a Reason
A rap of your finger on the drum fires all the sounds and starts a new harmony.
A step of yours, the levy of new men and their marching on.
Your head turns away: O the new love!
Your head turns back, - O the new love!
"Change our lots, confound the plagues, beginning with time", to you these children sing. "Raise no matter where the substance of our fortune and our desires" they beg you.
Arrival of all time, who will go everywhere.
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