Arthur Rimbaud

As a child, certain skies refined my way of seeing things; all characteristics affected my countenance. Phenomena were in tumult. Now, the eternal shifting of moments and the infinity of mathematics chase me through this world where I am subject to all civil triumphs, protected by my strange childhood and vast emotions. I think of a war, of might or right, of most unexpected logic.

It is as simple as a musical phrase.

N.B. This translation has just been published in issue 5 of “Ariadne’s Thread” magazine:

http://www.ariadnethread.net/

Long after the days and seasons, and the people and countries,

The flag of bleeding meat above the silk of seas and arctic flowers; (they do not exist.)

Delivered from the old fanfares of heroism – which still assail our hearts and heads – far from the former assassins.

– Oh! The flag of bleeding meat above the silk of seas and arctic flowers; (they do not exist.)

Sweetness!

The infernos raining in the gusts of frost, – Sweetness! – the fires in the rain of the wind of diamonds flung out by the earth’s heart, charred eternally for us. – Oh world! –

(Far from the old retreats and the old flames, that we hear, that we feel,)

The infernos and the foams. Music, the spinning of gulfs and the smashing of icebergs against the stars.

Oh Sweetness, oh world, oh music! And there, the shapes, sweats, hair and eyes, floating. And the white, boiling tears, – oh sweetness! – and the female voice penetrating to the depths of the volcanoes and arctic caves.

The flag…

Who is the genie? He may be an idealised image of the poet himself, or a Christ figure, but the genie may also represent Rimbaud’s father, who left when he was a small child, never to return. There may be homoerotic undercurrents, but if so, it cannot be Verlaine that Rimbaud is describing.

The poem ends in an assonance “son corps, son jour”, which I have endeavoured to retain in the translation: “his frame, his day”.

If the jackal image is a reference to the Moon trump card in the Tarot, it would be appropriate. The Moon signifies the spiritual, psychic and unconscious; the poem ends with the image of a sorceress and the words “que nous ignorons” (literally “of which we are unaware”.) If the Moon card is ill-dignified, it represents delusion, introversion, even mental illness; the dark night of the soul before illumination.

An ecstatic communion with – or rather groping of – Nature. A dream that finally denies itself. The imagery of the poem is framed by a first and last line of the same length, implying that the dream and its brevity are intimately connected. “Wasserfall” is one of only two German words in the entire Illuminations, although there are other references to Germany in “Historic Evening” and “Promontory”. Perhaps the contrast between French and English, which Rimbaud employs more frequently, was not strong enough for him here, although the sibilant “ss” is also more appropriate to convey the sound of the waterfall.

An oft-quoted poem, especially the anaphora and overturning of perceptions of section III, which recalls Deliria II in A Season In Hell, where Rimbaud states in all honesty that he could see living-rooms at the bottom of a lake. One wonders whether Rimbaud was told at school not to begin every sentence with “Il y a” and is now getting his revenge by using this repetition for rhetorical effect.

Sections IV and V seem to justify Rimbaud’s claim in A Season In Hell that he has “noted the inexpressible”.

The evocation of the city in paragraph 3 of section V may be influenced by Dickens’ description of Coketown in Hard Times, a copy of which Rimbaud is said to have carried around with him in England. However, unlike Dickens’ laborious, overwrought descriptions, Rimbaud crystallises the essence of the city into three sentences. To say the least, the new times are very hard…