My Bohemia, Poem by Arthur Rimbaud

Poem by Arthur Rimbaud Collection PoetryThemes HappinessPeriod 19th century

I went off, my fists in my torn pockets;
My coat, too, was becoming ideal;
I walked under the sky, Muse! and I was your faithful liege;
Oh! my! oh! my! what splendid loves I dreamed!

My only pair of breeches had a big hole.
– A dreamy Little Thumb, I scattered as I ran
Rhymes. My inn was the Great Bear.
– My stars in the sky had a soft rustle

And I listened to them, sitting by the roadside,
Those good September evenings when I felt drops
Of dew on my forehead, like a wine of strength;

Where, rhyming in the midst of fantastic shadows,
Like lyres, I plucked the elastics
Of my wounded shoes, one foot near my heart!

Arthur Rimbaud

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

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-my-bohemia-arthur-rimbaud/