Song of the highest tower

Lazy youth

enslaved to all,

by politesse

I lost my life.

Ah! let the time come

of hearts in love.

I said: forget,

let no one see:

and unpromised

the highest joys.

Be stopped nohow,

august retreat.

I’ve been so patient

I forget how long;

suffering and fear

to heaven are fled.

And the dirty thirst

my veins blocks.

Thus the Field

to oblivion delivered,

swollen, and flowering

with incense and tares

to the heavy burden

of a hundred dirty flies.

Ah! a million widowings

of the so poor soul

with naught but the picture

of Nuestra Señora!

Should I pray to

The Virgin Mary?

Lazy youth

enslaved to all,

by politesse

I lost my life.

Ah! let the time come

of hearts in love.

Arthur Rimbaud