Saturday, February 4, 2012

Aimless Reading: The R's, Part 13 (Arthur Rimbaud)

A Season in Hell & The Drunken Boat
 Rimbaud, Arthur
A Season in Hell & The Drunken Boat

Not sure where I bought this.

No idea. None.

Not when, not where, not why.

It feels newish. The pages are crisp. I still don't know.

I always start reading Rimbaud, but never finish.

He always make me want to read French.

What little I do read sounds so much better than the translations, no matter how good they are.

I end up jumping back and forth between the two until my head spins.

I can sound out most of the French, but can only understand a little, so I turn to the English.

The English sounds terrible.

Something is missing.

Frenchness, I think.

You can't bring Frenchness into English.

It's like oil and water.

I need to learn to read French.

There, that's the ticket.

from A Season in Hell

Song of the Highest Tower

O may it come, the time of love,

The time we'd be enamoured of.

I've been patient too long,
My memory is dead,
All fears and all wrongs
To the heavens have fled.
While all my veins burst

With a sickly thirst.

O may it come, the time of love,
The time we'd be enamoured of.

Like the meadow that is dreaming
Forgetful of cares,

Flourishing and flowering
With incense and tares,
Where fierce buzzings rise
Of filthy flies.

O may it come, the time of love,

The time we'd be enamoured of.

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