Arthur Rimbaud

One evening, let us say, when the naïve tourist, isolated from our economic  horrors, finds himself, a master’s hand brings to life the harpsichord of  the meadows; people are playing cards at the bottom of the lake, a mirror showing queens and sweethearts; we have holy women, veils and threads of harmony, and legendary chromatic tones, in the light of the setting sun.

He shudders as hunts and hordes pass by. Theatre drips onto the grass stage. Oh, the confusion of the poor and weak on these stupid levels!

A slave to its vision, Germany rises up towards moons; the Tartar deserts light up; old revolts swarm at the centre of the Celestial Empire; by the rock stairs and armchairs a small world, pale and flat, Africa and Occidents, is about to be constructed. Then a ballet of known seas and nights, a valueless chemistry, and impossible melodies.

The same bourgeois magic at all the ports where the packet boat deposits us. The most rudimentary physician feels that it is no longer possible to put up with this idiosyncratic atmosphere, a mist of physical remorse, the very sight of which is an affliction.

No! It is the time of the sweating-room, of the seas rolled back, of the underground blazes, of the planet torn from its orbit, and of the resulting exterminations, certitudes foretold with so little spite in the Bible and by the Norns and which it will be up to the serious person to watch out for. – However, it will  not look anything like a legend!

Note : These translations by Robert Yates will eventually be published by Poetry in Translation editor Sebastian Hayes.  S.H.

The swaying movement on the bank by the river falls,
The stern-post gulf,
The swiftness of the gangway,
The enormous capriciousness of the current
Lead on with their unprecedented lights
And chemical innovation
The travellers surrounded by the valley’s torrents
And the strom.

 They are the conquerors of the world
Each seeking their personal chemical fortune;
Sport and comfort travel with them;
They take along education
Races, classes and beasts, on this vessel
Is both rest and tumult
The light is diluvian,
The evenings of study terrible.

Because, amongst the chattering in the middle of the apparatus, the blood, the flowers, the fire, the jewels,
From the troubled account-taking aboard this runaway ship,
– Can be seen, rolling like a flood barrier beyond the motive hydraulic road,
Monstrous, shooting out light, – their stock of studies;
They who are chased into harmonious ecstasy,
And the heroism of discovery.

 Accompanied by the most surprising atmospheric effects
A young couple stand aside under the arch,
– Is this ancient savagery that we pardon? –
And sing and take position.

Mouvement par Arthur Rimbaud

Le mo0uvement de lacet sur la berge des chutes du fleuve,
Le gouffre à l’étambot,
La célérité du courant
L’énorme passade du courant
Mènent par les lumières inouïes
Et la nouveauté chimique
Les voyageurs entourés des trombes du val
Et du strom.

Aux accidents atmosphériques les plus surprenants,
Un couple de jeunesse, s’isole sur l’arche,
— Est-ce ancienne sauvagerie qu’on pardonne? —
Et chante et poste.

Note : These translations by Robert Yates will eventually be published by Poetry in Translation editor Sebastian Hayes.  S.H.

I    Oh the huge avenues of the holy land, the temple terraces! What have they done with the Brahmin who explained the Proverbs to me? I can still even see the old women from that time and place. I can remember the hours of silver and sunlight down by the rivers, my companion’s hand on my shoulder, and the caresses we shared as we stood on the aromatic plains. – A flight of scarlet pigeons thunders around my thoughts. – Exiled here, I had at my disposal a stage where I could perform the dramatic masterpieces of all literatures. I could show you untold riches. I sit here watching the story of the treasures you have uncovered. I can see what happens next! My wisdom is as despised as chaos. What is my nothingness, next to the stupor that awaits you?

II

I  am a far more deserving inventor than any of those who have preceded me; a musician even, who has found something like the key to love. At present, lord of a harsh country with temperate skies, I am trying to be moved by the memory of mendicant youth, of apprenticeship or the arrival in clogs of polemics, of the five or six widowhoods, and some wedding when my strong  head prevented me from keeping in tune with my comrades. I do not miss my old share of divine happiness: the sober air of this harsh landscape feeds most actively my dreadful scepticism. But as this scepticism can no longer be applied, and since, moreover, I am devoted to a new turmoil, – I expect to become a very wicked madman.

III

In an attic where I was shut away at the age of twelve, I knew the whole world, I illustrated the human comedy. In a storeroom I learned about history. At some night-time festival in a city of the North I came to know all the women of ancient painters. In an old Parisian alley-way I was taught the classical sciences. In a magnificent residence surrounded by the entire Orient I completed my immense work and passed my illustrious retirement. I mixed my blood. My duty was done. I need no longer even think of that. I am truly beyond the grave, and will be sending no messages back.

ROYALTY by Arthur Rimbaud     Translated by Robert Yates

 One fine morning, among a most gentle crowd, a glorious man and woman announced on the public square: “My friends, I want her to be queen!” “I want to be queen!” She was laughing and trembling. He talked to his friends about revelations, about trials completed. They swooned, one against the other.

            In fact, they were kings for a whole morning, while crimson hangings were blown against the houses, and for a whole afternoon, when they walked out to the gardens of palm trees.

DEPARTURE by Arthur Rimbaud     Translated by Robert Yates

    Seen enough. The vision was the same no matter where.

     Had enough. The hum of cities, in the evening, and in the sunlight, and always.

    Experienced enough. The halts of life. – Oh Noises and Visions!

   Departure into new affection and sounds.