I have heard that you met someone

I have heard that she's all I was not

And I hear that you are safe now, I wake up with the idea every day

And I hear that she is the rightful

Yes they say that you really mean it

And I hate that I love you

And I love you so much that I hate myself

And I am ashamed to ask and I am ashamed to cry

My heart is yours to destroy, let your friends know

And I am ashamed to say that you are left in me

Laugh about it, because then I might be the

How could you drop when she said, I love you, I love you so much that I hate myself

My friends say: 'Wake up

And stop thinking about it "

But what do they do? Now is anyone but me closer

Life before I could, inside and out

I could have had it so forever

But I fell for you and you deserved a nomination for the role you played

There will always be a place for you somewhere

You can close your eyes and never feel lonely

And all would be well now

They have been waiting for this

And I hate that I love you

And I love you so much that I hate myself

Once upon a time, there was a feast

And I went with someone because he reminded you

But then came the dawn, I rose, went out the door

And I went through the early morning

The pure, early morning

And I did not know why I did so

Oh, I did not know why

My Bohemian Life (.Fantasy)

I went off with my hands in my torn coat pockets;
My overcoat too was becoming ideal;
I travelled beneath the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal;
Oh dear me! what marvellous loves I dreamed of!

My only pair of breeches had a big whole in them.
– Stargazing Tom Thumb, I sowed rhymes along my way.
My tavern was at the Sign of the Great Bear.
– My stars in the sky rustled softly.

And I listened to them, sitting on the road-sides
On those pleasant September evenings while I felt drops
Of dew on my forehead like vigorous wine;

And while, rhyming among the fantastical shadows,
I plucked like the strings of a lyre the elastics
Of my tattered boots, one foot close to my heart!

by Arthur Rimbaud (1889.)

source

Le Coeur Supplicié

Le Coeur Supplicié Mon triste coeur bave à la poupe, Mon coeur est plein de caporal: Ils y lancent des jets de soupe, Mon triste coeur bave à la poupe: Sous les quolibets de la troupe Qui lance un rire general Mon triste coeur bave à la poupe, Mon coeur est plein de caporal! Ithyphalliques et pioupiesques, Leur insultes l'ont dépravé! A la vesprée, ils font des fresques Ithyphalliques et pioupiesques. O flots abracadabrantesques Prenez my coeur, qu'il soit sauvé Ithyphalliques et pioupioupesques Leur insultes l'ont depravé! Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques, Comment agir, ô coeur volé? Ce seront des refrains bachiques: Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques: J'aurai des sursauts stomachiques, Si mon triste coeur est ravalé: Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques Comment agir, ô coeur volé?

The Tortured Heart My sad heart drools at the poop, My heart full of tobacco juice: They squirt on it their jets of soup, My sad heart drools at the poop: Beneath the jeers of the troop Who burst forth with a general laugh My sad heart drools at the poop, My heart full of tobacco juice. Standing phallic and soldierlike Their insults have depraved it At vespers they make frescoes Standing phallic and soldierlike O waves, abracadabrantesque Take my heart, let it be saved Standing phallic and soldierlike Their insults have depraved it When they've exhausted their quids, How shall we act, o stolen heart? There will be drinking songs When they've exhausted their quids My stomach will heave If my sad heart is gobbled down When they've exhausted their quids How shall we act, o stolen heart?

Mai 1871. by Arthur Rimbaud