From Newsgroup: alt.poetry
Romance Novel
I
YourCOre never serious at 17.
One great night, full of pints and lemonade,
YourCOve had enough of caf|-s, so you stroll
Beneath green lime trees on the promenade.
The lime trees smell so good at night in June!
Sometimes the airrCOs so mild you have to blink.
The wind from off the town is charged with noise
And smells of grape, of ale and stronger drink . . .
II
Look there, you see a tiny handkerchief
Of dark blue, framed by branches in the night,
Pierced by a hapless star which melts away
With one soft shudder, beautifully white . . .
YourCOre 17! In June! It gets you high "
The saprCOs champagne: it makes your whole head ring . . .
You ramble " suddenly you feel a kiss
That flutters on your lips like a live thing . . .
III
Below the halo of a pale street lamp,
Your heart creates a novel, going mad
Because a young miss stopped to sneak a glance
Beneath the menacing shadow of her dad . . .
And just because she thinks yourCOre such a child,
She trots on by and swings her little hips
And gives a shrug that slugs you in the gut,
While cavatinas die upon your lips . . .
IV
Now yourCOre in love " till August anyway.
YourCOll make her laugh! YourCOll write her poetry!
But still yourCOre shunned as if you tasted bad
Until, one night, the dear one writes to thee!
That night you wander back to the caf|-s.
You order up more pints and lemonade . . .
YourCOre never serious at 17
When limes grow green above the promenade.
---
Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891), 1870
translated by George J. Dance, 2009
from Doggerel, and other doggerel, 2015
for Rimbaud's original in French, read blog:
https://gdancesbetty.blogspot.com/2010/03/romance-novel-roman-arthur-rimbaud.html
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Via JLA Forums web gateway for alt.poetry:
http://www.jlaforums.com/viewforum.php?f=663
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