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Arthur Rimbaud - Being Beauteous
Work rating: Low

Against a fall 
of snow, 
a Being Beauiful, 
and very tall. 

Whistlings of death and circles of faint music 
Make this adored body, swelling and trembling 
Like a specter, rise...
Black and scarlet gashes burst in the gleaming flesh. 

The true colors of life grow dark, Shimmering and sperate. 
In the scaffolding, around the Vision. 

Shiverings mutter and rise, 
And the furious taste of these effects is charged 
With deadly whistlings and the raucous music 
That the world, far behind us, 
hurls at our mother of beauty... 
She retreats, she rises up... 
Oh! Our bones have put on new flesh, for love. 
Oh ash-white face. Oh tousled hair. 
O crystal arms! On this cannot I mean to destroy myself 
In a swirling of trees and soft air!
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