To Her
In the winter we shall go in a small pink coach
With blue cushions
We will be well. A nest of insane kisses rests
In each soft corner.
You will close your eyes. Not to see, by the glassware
Ugly face shades of the night,
Those aggressive monstrosities, mob
Of black demons and of the black wolves.
After that, you will feel the face scratched...
A small kiss, like an insane spider,
Will run on you for the neck...
And you will say to me: "Seek!", by inclining the head
-And we will take time to find this little animal
-Who travels too much…
Arthur Rimbaud (1854 – 1891) France
Inside a coach . October, 7th 1870.
Translated by Isaac Pereira
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