Long after the days and the seasons, and people
The banner of raw meat against the silk of seas
and arctic flowers; (they do not exist).
Recovered from the old fanfares of heroism,—
which still attack the heart and head,—far from the
—Oh! the banner of raw meat against the silk
of seas and arctic flowers; (they do not exist).—
Live embers raining in gusts of frost.—Bliss!—
fires in the rain of the wind of diamonds flung out
by the earth's heart eternally carbonized for us.—0
(Far from the old retreats and the old flames, still
heard, still felt.)
Fire and foam. Music, veerings of chasms and
clash of icicles against the stars.
0 bliss, 0 world, 0 music! And forms, sweat,
eyes and long hair floating there. And white tears
boiling,—0 bliss!—and the feminine voice reach-
ing to the bottom of volcanos and grottos of the
The banner. . .
- Arthur Rimbaud