Soft silken embers

It is recovered.
What? Eternity.
In the whirling light
Of the sun in the sea.
O my eternal soul,
Hold fast to desire
In spite of the night
And the day on fire.
You must set yourself free
From the striving of Man
And the applause of the World!
You must fly as you can...
No hope, forever; No _orietur._
Science and patience,
The torment is sure.
The fire within you,
Soft silken embers,
Is our whole duty--
But no one remembers.
It is recovered.
What? Eternity.
In the whirling light
Of the sun in the sea.

Arthur Rimbaud born on this day 1854

 Rimbaud (second to left) depicted in an 1872 painting by Henri Fantin-Latour

The wolf cried out under the leaves
Spitting the beautiful feathers
from his feast of foul.
Like him, I devour myself.

Le loup criait sous les feuilles
En crachant les belles plumes
De son repas de volailles :
Comme lui je me consume.

Modigliani and Rimbaud = seduction

She was only half-dressed
And equally bare trees tossed
Their few leaves against the window pane
Playfully and with reckless abandon