The flowering sweetness of the stars, - Arthur Rimbaud

I’m the Saint praying on a balcony - like peaceful beasts grazing along the Sea of Palestine.
I’m the scholar in a plain reading chair. Branches and rain beat the library windows.
I’m the pedestrian on the high road through the stunted woods; the sound of floodgates drowns out my footsteps. I stare at the melancholy wash of another golden sunset...
The path is harsh. The hillocks are weed. The air is still. How far we are from birds and streams. The end of the world must be just ahead.

ليس يمكن الوثوق بأحدٍ في الدنيا؛ والبشر الفانون
ليس يلمسون سعادةً صادقةً أبداً؛ من عطر الزّهر نفسه

Je me suis baigné dans le Poème
De la Mer...
Dévorant les azurs verts.