O Seasons, O Castles, Poem by Arthur Rimbaud

O seasons, O castles,
What soul is without flaws?

O seasons, O castles,

I made the magic study
Of Happiness, which no one eludes.

O may he live, each time
His Gallic rooster crows.

But! I shall have no more desire,
He has taken charge of my life.

This Charm! it took soul and body.
And scattered all efforts.

What to understand from my word?
It makes it flee and fly!

O seasons, O castles!

And, if misfortune carries me away,
Its disgrace is certain to me.

Its disdain must, alas!
Deliver me to the swiftest death!

– O Seasons, O Castles!

Arthur Rimbaud

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