Wednesday, February 16, 2022

‘The poet makes himself a seer by a long, gigantic and rational derangement of the senses. All forms of love, suffering, and madness. He searches himself. He exhausts all poisons in himself and keeps only their quintessences. Unspeakable torture where he needs all his faith, all his superhuman strength, where he becomes among all men the great patient, the great criminal, the one accursed – and the supreme Scholar! – Because he reaches the unknown! Since he cultivated his soul, rich already, more than any man! He reaches the unknown, and when, bewildered, he ends by losing the intelligence of his visions, he has seen them. Let him die as he leaps through unheard of and unnameable things.’

Arthur Rimbaud to Paul Demeny, May 15 1871


No comments:

Post a Comment

 Published Nov 26, 2024, in  Festival for Poetry Norwegian Wood Are these not just excuses to not connect. Our differences are irrelevant. T...