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Arthur Rimbaud quotes Showing 241-270 of 305

“Hire myself out to whom? What beast must I worship? What sacred images should I destroy? What hearts shall I break? What lies am I supposed to believe? March through whose blood?”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell/The Drunken Boat
“Ben bir başkasıdır. Kendini keman olarak duyumsayan oduna yazık. Hiç bilmedikleri konularda tartışan bilinçsiz insanları küçümsüyorum.”
Arthur Rimbaud, Selected Poems and Letters
“turn your face towards the lances of rain, the soul towards ancient wisdom. And”
Arthur Rimbaud, I Promise to Be Good: The Letters of Arthur Rimbaud
“Tenemos fe en el veneno. Sabemos dar nuestra vida entera, todos los días. He aquí el tiempo de los asesinos.”
Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations
tags: poetry
“AFTER THE DELUGE AS SOON as the idea of the Deluge had subsided, A hare stopped in the clover and swaying flower-bells, and said a prayer to the rainbow, through the spider’s web. Oh! the precious stones that began to hide,—and the flowers that already looked around. In the dirty main street, stalls were set up and boats were hauled toward the sea, high tiered as in old prints. Blood flowed at Blue Beard’s,—through slaughterhouses, in circuses, where the windows were blanched by God’s seal. Blood and milk flowed. Beavers built. “Mazagrans” smoked in the little bars. In the big glass house, still dripping, children in mourning looked at the marvelous pictures. A door banged; and in the village square the little boy waved his arms, understood by weather vanes and cocks on steeples everywhere, in the bursting shower. Madame *** installed a piano in the Alps. Mass and first communions were celebrated at the hundred thousand altars of the cathedral. Caravans set out. And Hotel Splendid was built in the chaos of ice and of the polar night. Ever after the moon heard jackals howling across the deserts of thyme, and eclogues in wooden shoes growling in the orchard. Then in the violet and budding forest, Eucharis told me it was spring. Gush, pond,—Foam, roll on the bridge and over the woods;—black palls and organs, lightning and thunder, rise and roll;—waters and sorrows rise and launch the Floods again. For since they have been dissipated—oh! the precious stones being buried and the opened flowers!—it’s unbearable! and the Queen, the Witch who lights her fire in the earthen pot will never tell us what she knows, and what we do not know.”
Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations: Prose poems
“I say that one must be a visionary - that one must make oneself a VISIONARY.”
Arthur Rimbaud
“El cerebro del hombre está atiborrado de trapos.”
Arthur Rimbaud
“I am hidden and I am not.”
Arthur Rimbaud
“La vie est la farce à mener par tous.”
Arthur Rimbaud, Une saison en enfer; Illuminations; et autres textes
“Vei rămâne o hienă",exclamă demonul care îmi încisese fruntea cu o cunună de maci superbi."Dobândeşte-ţi moartea,cu toate poftele tale,cu egoismul tău şi cu toate păcatele tale grele!”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“O vento Sul me fez lembrar miseráveis incidentes de infância, meus desesperos de verão, a horrível quantidade de força e de ciência que o destino sempre afastou de mim. Não! não passaremos o verão neste país mesquinho onde nada mais seremos que noivos órfãos. Quero que este braço teso não arraste mais uma imagem querida.”
Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations
“CHILDHOOD I That idol, black eyes and yellow mop, without parents or court, nobler than Mexican and Flemish fables; his domain, insolent azure and verdure, runs over beaches called by the shipless waves, names ferociously Greek, Slav, Celt. At the border of the forest—dream flowers tinkle, flash, and flare,—the girl with orange lips, knees crossed in the clear flood that gushes from the fields, nakedness shaded, traversed, dressed by rainbow, flora, sea. Ladies who stroll on terraces adjacent to the sea; baby girls and giantesses, superb blacks in the verdigris moss, jewels upright on the rich ground of groves and little thawed gardens,—young mothers and big sisters with eyes full of pilgrimages, sultanas, princesses tyrannical of costume and carriage, little foreign misses and young ladies gently unhappy. What boredom, the hour of the “dear body” and “dear heart.” II”
Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations: Prose poems
“Mi-e silă de toate meseriile.Meşteri sau lucrători,toţi sunt nişte ţărani nemernici.Mâna care ţine condeiul nu-i mai prejos decât mâna care-mpinge plugul.Ce secol al mâinilor!Eu,unul,n-o să am niciodată o mână ca lumea.Şi apoi,slugărnicia duce prea departe.Cerşetoria cinstită mă umple de mâhnire.Ucigaşii sunt la fel de dezgustători ca scapeţii;eu,însă rămân neatins,şi de altfel mi-e totuna.”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“Votre ardeur
Est le devoir.

Elle est retrouvée !
— Quoi ? — l’Éternité.
C’est la mer mêlée

Au soleil.”
Arthur Rimbaud
“Eu înţeleg,dar neputând da explicaţii fără a folosi cuvinte păgâne,aş prefera să tac.”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“Uyanık geçen geceler
I

Işıklı bir dinleniş bu, ne hararet ne bitkinlik, yatağın
üzerinde veya çayırların üstünde.
Dost bu, ne ateşli ne zayıf. Dost.
Sevgili bu, ne acı veren ne acı çeken. Sevgili.
Hiç aranmamış hava ve dünya. Hayat.
-Demek bu muydu?
-Ve rüya şiddetleniyor”
Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations
“Aquí abajo, no podemos fiamos de nadie; los mortales no acarician nunca con dicha sincera;
incluso del olor de la flor brota un algo amargo;
y los corazones agitados sólo gozan de alegrías tristes;
nunca la alegría reconforta sin nubes y una lágrima luce en la risa que duda.
¿Acaso tu frente pura tiene que ajarse en esta vida amarga, las preocupaciones turbar los llantos de tus ojos color cielo y la sombra del ciprés dispersar las rosas de tu cara?
¡No ocurrirá! te llevaré conmigo a las tierras celestes,
para que unas tu voz al concierto de los habitantes del cielo.
Velarás por los hombres que se han quedado aquí abajo.
¡Vamos! Una Divinidad rompe los lazos que te atan a la vida.”
Arthur Rimbaud
“So much the worse for the wood if it finds that it has become a violin, and I feel nothing but contempt for those ignoramuses who argue over things that they know nothing about.”
Arthur Rimbaud
“Cui să mă vând?Cărei jivine să mă închin?Ce icoană sfântă să sfărâm?Ce inimi să frâng?Ce minciuni să spun? În sângele cui să calc?”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“S-o pornesc din nou pe drumurile de-aici,împovărat de propriu-mi viciu,de viciul acesta care şi-a înfipt în mine rădăcinile dureroase încă de la vârsta când am început să judec,şi care urcă spre cer,mă loveşte,mă răstoarnă,mă târăşte după el.
Ultima inocenţă şi ultima sfială.A fost rostită.A nu-i oferii lumii lehamitea şi trăirile mele.”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“Ah,mă simt atât de părăsit,încât i-aş închina oricărei icoane dumnezeieşti elanurile mele spre perfecţine.”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“Am încetat să îndrăgesc plictiseala.Furiile,dezmăţul,nebunia--căreia îi cunosc toate avânturile şi toate prăbuşirile,întreaga mea povară a fost lepădată.Să măsurăm fără a ameţi întinderea inocenţei mele.”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“Nu-i vina aramei dacă se trezeşte trâmbiţă!”
Arthur Rimbaud
“. . . the gnashing of teeth, the hissing of fire, the reeking sighs abate. All filthy memories fade out. My last regrets scamper off. . . . A spiritual battle is as brutal as a battle of men.”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“Ce soir-là, . . . vous rentrez aux cafés éclatants,
Vous demandez des bocks ou de la limonade . . .
On n'est pas sérieux, quand on a dix-sept ans
Et qu'on a des tilleuls verts sur la promenade.”
Arthur Rimbaud
“Oisive jeunesse
À tout asservie,
Par délicatesse
J'ai perdu ma vie.”
Rimbaud Arthur
“O saisons, ô châteaux,
Quelle âme est sans défauts ?”
Rimbaud Arthur
“You must set yourself free
From the striving of Man
And the applause of the World
You must fly as you can...

- No hope forever
No orietur.
Science and patience,
The torment is sure.

The fire within you,
Soft silken embers,
Is our whole duty
But no one remembers.

It is recovered.
What? Eternity.
In the whirling light
Of the sun in the sea.”
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
“¡Si el tiempo retomara, el tiempo que ya fue…!
—¡El Hombre está acabado, se acabó su teatro!
Y un día, a plena luz, harto de romper ídolos,
libre renacerá, libre de tantos dioses,
buceando en los cielos, pues pertenece al cielo.
¡El Ideal, eterno pensamiento invencible,
ese dios que se agita en la camal arcilla,
subirá, subirá, y arderá en su cabeza!
Y, cuando lo sorprendas mirando el horizonte,
libre de viejos yugos que desprecia sin miedos,
vendrás a concederle la santa Redención[91]
—Espléndida, radiante, del seno de los mares
nacerás, derramando por el vasto Universo
el Amor infinito en su infinita risa:
el Mundo vibrará como una lira inmensa
en el temblor sin límites de un beso repetido.
—El Mundo está sediento de Amor: aplácalo.”
Arthur Rimbaud
“¿Por qué es mudo el azur e insondable el espacio?
¿Por qué los astros de oro que hierven como arena?
Si subiéramos más y más, allá arriba ¿qué habría?
¿Existe algún Pastor de este inmenso ganado
de mundos trashumantes por el horrible espacio?
Y estos mundos que el éter abraza inmensamente
¿vibran, acaso, al son de una llamada eterna?
—¿El Hombre puede ver? ¿y decir: creo, creo?
¿La voz del pensamiento va más allá del sueño?
Si en el nacer es raudo, si su vida es tan corta
¿de dónde viene el Hombre? ¿se abisma en el Océano
profundo de los gérmenes, los Fetos, los Embriones,
en el Crisol sin fondo del que la Madre cósmica
lo resucitará, criatura que vive,
para amar en la rosa y crecer en los trigos?…
¡No podemos saberlo! —¡Estamos agobiados
por un oscuro manto de ignorancia y quimeras!
¡Farsas de hombre, caídos de las vulvas maternas,
nuestra razón, tan pálida, nos vela el infinito!
¡Si queremos mirar, la Duda nos castiga!
¡La duda, triste pájaro, nos hiere con sus alas!…
—¡Y en una huida eterna huyen los horizontes!”
Arthur Rimbaud


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