One evening, I sat Beauty in my lap. — And I found her bitter. — And I cursed her. - Arthur Rimbaud

Je suis esclave de mon baptême.

And from then on I bathed in the Poem
Of the Sea, infused with stars and lactescent,
Devouring the green azure where, like a pale elated
Piece of flotsam, a pensive drowned figure sometimes sinks;

Where, suddenly dyeing the blueness, delirium
And slow rhythms under the streaking of daylight,
Stronger than alcohol, vaster than our lyres,
The bitter redness of love ferments!

Elle est retrouvée,
Quoi ? — L'Éternité.
C'est la mer allée
Avec le soleil.