Antique

Antique

Arthur Rimbaud, 1854 - 1891

Graceful son of Pan! Around your forehead crowned 

with small flowers and berries, your eyes, precious 

spheres, are moving. Spotted with brownish wine lees, 

your cheeks grow hollow. Your fangs are gleaming. 

Your chest is like a lyre, jingling sounds circulate between your 

blond arms. Your heart beats in that belly where the double 

sex sleeps. Walk at night, gently moving that thigh, 

that second thigh and that left leg.