Golden Age, Poem by Arthur Rimbaud

One of the voices,
Forever angelic,
— It is about me —
Sharply explains itself:

These thousand questions
That branch out
Lead, at bottom,
Only to drunkenness and madness;

Acknowledge this turn
So gay, so easy:
It is only wave, flora,
And it is your family!

Then she sings. O
So gay, so easy,
And visible to the naked eye…
— I sing with her —

Acknowledge this turn
So gay, so easy,
It is only wave, flora,
And it is your family!… etc…

And then a voice
— Is she angelic! —
It is about me,
Sharply explains itself;

And sings at once
As sister of breaths:
In a German tone,
But ardent and full:

The world is vicious;
If that astonishes you!
Live and leave to the fire
The obscure misfortune.

O! lovely castle!
How clear your life is!
From what Age are you,
Princely nature
Of our great brother! etc…

I sing too, I:
Multiple sisters! voices
Not at all public!
Surround me
With modest glory… etc…

Arthur Rimbaud

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

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