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Arthur Rimbaud - City
Work rating: Low

I am an ephemeral 
and a not too discontented citizen 
of a metropolis considered modern 
because all known taste 
has been evaded in the furnishings 
and the exterior of the houses 
as well as in the layout of the city. 

Here you will fail to detect the least trace 
of any monument of superstition. 
Morals and language 
are reduced to their simplest expression,
at last! The way these millions of people, 
who do not even need to know each other, 
manage their education, business, 
and old age is so identical 
that the course of their lives 
must be several times less long 
than that which a mad statistics
calculates for the people of the continent. 

And from my window I see new specters rolling through 
the thick eternal smoke-- 
our woodland shade, our summer night!-- 
new Eumenides in front of my cottage 
which is my country and all my heart 
since everything here resembles it,-- 
Death without tears, 
our diligent daughter and servant, 
a desperate Love, and a pretty 
Crime howling in the mud in the street.
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