And from that time on I bathed in the Poem
Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk,
Devouring the green azures;
where, entranced in pallid flotsam,
A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down;
Where, suddenly dyeing the bluenesses, deliriums
And slow rhythms under the gleams of the daylight,
Stronger than alcohol, vaster than music
Ferment the bitter redness of love!
But, truly, I have wept too much!
The Dawns are heartbreaking.
Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter:
Sharp love has swollen me up with heady languors.
O let my keel split!
O let me sink to the bottom!
-Aurthur Rimbaud
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