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List of Illustrations
Foreword (2005) by Seth Whidden
Acknowledgments
Selected Bibliography (a partial listing of works published since 1966)
Introduction (1966) by Wallace Fowlie
Poésies / Poetry
1869 / 1869
Les étrennes des orphelins / The Orphans' Gifts (New Year's)
1870 / 1870
Sensation / Sensation
Soleil et chair / Sun and Flesh
Ophélie / Ophelia
Venus Anadyomène / Venus Anadyomene
Première soirée / The First Evening
Les reparties de Nina / Nina's Replies
"Morts de Quatre-vingt-douze [. . .]" / "Dead of '92 [. . .]"
Les effarés / The Frightened Ones
Roman / Novel
Rêvé pour l'hiver / A Dream for Winter
Le buffet / The Cupboard
L'éclatante victoire de Sarrebrück / The Dazzling Victory of Sarrebruck
Le maline / The Sly Girl
Au Cabaret-Vert / At the Cabaret-Vert
Le dormeur du val / The Sleeper in the Valley
À la musique / To Music
Bal des pendus / Dance of the Hanged Men
Le châtiment de Tartufe / Tartufe's Punishment
Le forgeron / The Blacksmith
Ma bohème (Fantaisie) / My Bohemian Life (Fantasy)
Le mal / Evil
Rages de Césars / Caesars' Rages
Poèmes datés de 1871 - début 1872 ou dans des lettres de mai ou juin 1871 / Poems dated 1871 - early 1872 or in letters from May or June 1871
Le coeur volé / The Stolen Heart
Chant de guerre parisien / Parisian War Song
Mes petitesamoureuses / My Little Lovers
Accroupissements / Squattings
Les poètes de sept ans / Seven-year-old Poets
L'orgie parisienne ou Paris se repeuple / Parisian Orgy or Paris is Repopulated
Les pauvres À l'église / The Poor in Church
Les soeurs de charité / Sisters of Charity
L'homme juste / The Just Man
Les premières Communions / First Communions
Ce qu'on dit au Poète À propos de fleurs / What is Said to the Poet Concerning Flowers
Les mains de Jeanne-Marie / The Hands of Jeanne-Marie
Poèmes non datés (fin 1870 - début 1872?) / Undated poems (late 1870 - early 1872?)
Les assis / The Sedated Men
Le bateau ivre / The Drunken Boat
Les chercheuses de poux / The Seekers of Lice
Les douaniers / The Customs Men
"L'étoile a pleuré rose [. . .]" / "The star wept rose-colored [. . .]"
Oraison du soir / Evening Prayer
Tête de faune / Faun's Head
Voyelles / Vowels
Album zutique (fin 1871 - début 1872?) / Album called "zutique" (end 1871 - 1872?)
Sonnet du trou du cul / Sonnet to an Asshole
Lys / Lily
Vu À Rome / Seen in Rome
Fête galante / Love Feast
"J'occupais un wagon de troisième [. . .]" / "I occupied a third-class carriage [. . .]"
"Je préfère sans doute [. . .]" / "Doubtless I prefer [. . .]"
"L'Humanité chaussait [. . .]" / "Humanity was putting shoes on [. . .]"
Conneries / Nasty Jokes
Jeune goinfre / Young Glutton
Paris / Paris
Cocher ivre / Drunken Coachman
Vieux de la vieille! / The Old Man of the Old Woman!
état de siège? / State of Siege?
Le balai / The Brush
Exil / Exile
L'angelot maudit / The Outcast Cherub
"Mais enfin, c' [. . .]" / "But finally, th [. . .]"
"Les soirs d'été [. . .]" / "Summer evenings [. . .]"
Bouts-rimés / Rhymed endings
"Aux livres de cchevvet [. . .]" / "To the bedside books [. . .]"
Hypotyposes saturniennes, ex Belmontet / Saturnian Hypotyposes, taken from Belmontet
Les remembrances du vieillard idiot / Memories of the Simple-minded Old Man
Ressouvenir / Remembrance
D'autres poèmes de la période dite "zutique" (1871-1872?) / Other poems from the period called "zutique" (1871-1872?)
"Nos fesses ne sont pas les leurs [. . .]" / "Our backsides are not theirs are not theirs [. . .]"
"Les anciens animaux [. . .]" / "Ancient animals [. . .]"
Vers pour les lieux / Verses for Such Places
"De ce siège si mal tourné [. . .]" / "Of this seat so poorly made [. . .]"
"Quand le fameux Tropmann [. . .]" / "When the famous Tropmann [. . .]"
Poèmes datés de, transcritts ou publiés en 1872 / Poems dated, transcribed, or published in 1872
Comédie de la soif / Comedy of Thirst
Bonne pensée du matin / A Good Thought in the Morning
La rivière de Cassis / The Cassis River
Larme / Tear
Patience / Patience
Chanson de la plus haute tour / Song of the Highest Tower
L'éternité / Eternity
âge d'or / Golden Age
Jeune ménage / Young Couple
"Est-elle almée? [. . .]" / "Is she an almeh? [. . .]"
Fêtes de la fa
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Lisa Blackman
reviewed Rimbaud: Complete Works, Selected Letters on October 28, 2011 Rimbaud: Complete Works, Selected Letters
Rimbaud is comfort reading for the soul. i fell into reading him on accident, i was talking about poetry with a friend and he happened to mention that this was his favourite poet. and he told me all about rimbaud's past, the tryst he had with paul verlaine, the religious upbringing he had and the curious fact that rimbaud stopped writing at 21. that he dropped everything to become a merchant and to run away from it all. my interest was piqued; there isn't any way that it couldn't be.
what strikes me about rimbaud in the translated work that wyatt mason has compiled is the ability to watch him grow in the few years that he is a poet and writer. he lists the poetry and prose as best as he can by the year that it was written. mason even captures versions of poems, again sorting by year, so that you can see the corrections that age helped him to make to his beautiful poems.
i've read previous translations of rimbaud, and i've loved those as well, but this one felt a bit more… modern and relatable. instead of a literal translation, word by word, he tried to convey nuances of the language into english, which to me hasn't been done as well by previous translators. i imagine reading it in the original french would be amazing, but alas, i can only speak so many languages.
below is probably my favourite prose piece that he's written (which isn't an easy thing to choose).
* * * *
Long ago, if my memory serves, life was a feast where every heart was open, where every wine flowed.
One night, I sat Beauty on my knee. -And I found her bitter. -And I hurt her.
I took arms against justice.
I fled, entrusting my treasure to you, o witches, o misery, o hate.
I snuffed any hint of human hope from my consciousness. I made the muffled leap of a wild beast onto any hint of joy, to strangle it.
Dying, I called my executioners over so I could bite the butts of their rifles. I called plagues to suffocate me with sand, blood. Misfortune was my god. I lay in the mud. I withered in criminal air. And I even tricked madness more than once.
And spring left me with an idiot's unbearable laughter.
Just now, having nearly reached death's door, I thought about seeking the key to the old feast, through which, perhaps, I might regain my appetite.
Charity is the key. -Such an inspiration proves I was dreaming!
"A hyena you'll remain, etc…." cries the demon that crowns me with your merry poppies. "Make for death with every appetite intact, with your egotism, and every capital sin."
Ah. It seems I have too many already: -But, dear Satan, I beg you not to look at me that way, and while you await a few belated cowardices'you who so delight in a writer's inability to describe or inform'watch me tear a few terrible leaves from my book of the damned.
it's hard for me to explain why i love a poet, or a specific poem. i feel transported, or full of life or anger, or just an emotion that previously hadn't consumed me, for the duration of my reading and for some time beyond. i'm stuck in that space that the author has written and it feels for a time like i want nothing more than to drown in that emotion. this is why i read rimbaud, all the time.
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