LIGHTNING
Human work! That explosion lights up my abyss from time to time.
"Nothing is vanity to science, and forward!" Cries the modern Ecclesiastes, that is to say
Everyone .
And yet the corpses of the wicked and lazy fall on the hearts of others ... Ah! hurry, hurry a little, there, beyond the night, these future rewards, eternal ... the escape us ...
"What will I do? I know the work, and science is too slow, Let prayer gallops rumbles and the light ... I can see that. It's too simple, and it's too hot, we will me. I have my duty, I'm proud in how many, by putting it aside.
My life is worn. Come on! pretend, idle, oh mercy! And we exist in us fun, dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling appearances of the world, acrobat, beggar, artist, thief, priest!
On my hospital bed, the smell of incense came back so strong, the guardian of sacred herbs , confessor, martyr ...
I recognize my dirty childhood education. Then what! ... Go my twenty years if the others will twenty ...
No! no! now I rebel against death! The work seems too light in my pride: my world would be a betrayal to the punishment too short. At the last moment
I would attack the right, left ...
So -
oh! - Poor dear soul, eternity would not be lost to us!
Arthur Rimbaud
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