Baudelaire Rimbaud Verlaine: Selected Verse and Prose Poems by Charles-Pierre Baudelaire & Arthur Rimbaud & Paul Verlaine

Author:Charles-Pierre Baudelaire & Arthur Rimbaud & Paul Verlaine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Citadel Press
Published: 2000-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

Vocations

IN A LOVELY GARDEN, where the rays of an autumnal sun seemed to be pleasantly lingering, under a green sky in which aureate clouds floated like travelling continents, four handsome children, four boys, no doubt tired of their games, began to talk.

One said: “Yesterday I was taken to the theatre. In great, gloomy palaces, beyond which could be seen the sky and the sea, men and women, looking grave and sad, but far more beautiful and far better dressed than those we see elsewhere, spoke in melodious voices. They threatened each other, they pleaded, they grieved, and often they gripped the dagger that was thrust through their girdles. Ah! that was splendid! The women were more beautiful and much taller than those who come to our house, and though their big, sunken eyes and their fiery cheeks gave them a terrifying appearance, you could not help loving them. They frightened you, they made you want to weep, and yet you were glad. And then, what is still more strange, they made you want to dress just as they were dressed, say and do the same things, and speak in the same voice.”

One of these four children, who for some seconds had ceased listening to his friend, and was staring strangely at some point in the sky, said suddenly: “Look, look over there. Do you see him? He’s sitting on that lonely little cloud, that little fire-coloured cloud, that is drifting slowly. He, too, seems to be looking at us.”

“But who?” asked the others.

“God!” he replied in a tone of perfect conviction. “Ah! He’s already far off; in a moment you will not be able to see him at all. He must be travelling, to visit all the countries. There, he’s going to pass behind that row of trees that is almost on the horizon . . . and now he is going down behind the belfry. Ah! He’s gone!” The child remained a long while looking in that direction, and while he gazed at the line that separates the earth from the sky, his eyes reflected his inarticulate ecstasy and regret.

“Isn’t he stupid, talking about that God of his, whom he alone can see?” said the third, a tiny fellow, yet full of surprising vivacity and vitality. “I’ll tell you something that happened to me and which never happened to you, something more interesting than your theatre or your clouds. A few days ago, my parents took me with them on a journey, and, as there were not enough beds for all of us in the inn where we stayed, it was decided that I was to sleep in my nurse’s bed.” He made his friends come closer, and continued in a lower voice. “It’s a funny feeling, let me tell you, not to be sleeping alone and to be in a bed with your nurse, in the dark. I couldn’t sleep, so while she slept I amused myself by running my hand over her arms, and her neck and her shoulders.

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