Hear How It Bellows

Poem by Arthur Rimbaud Collection Derniers versPeriod 19th centuryPrint

Hear how it bellows
near the acacias
in April, the bough
of green pea blossoms!

In its clear vapor,
toward Phoebe! you see
the heads stirring
of saints of old…

Far from the bright haystacks
of capes, of fair roofs,
those dear Ancients want
this sly philter…

Yet neither festive
nor astral! is
the mist exhaled
by this nocturnal effect.

Nevertheless they remain,
– Sicily, Germany,
in this sad fog
and pallid, precisely!

Arthur Rimbaud

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

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