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Слушать(AI)Feasts Of Hunger
My hunger,
Anne,
Anne, flee on your donkey.
If I have any taste, it s for hardly anything but earth and stones.
Dinn!
Dinn!
Dinn!
Dinn!
Let us eat air, rock, coal, iron.
Turn, my hungers.
Feed, hungers, in the meadow of sounds!
Suck the gaudy poison of the convolvuli;
Eat, the stones a poor man breaks, the old masonry of churches, boulders, children of floods, loaves lying in the grey valleys!
Hungers, it is bits of black air; the azure trumpeter; it is my stomach that makes me suffer.
It is unhappiness.
Leaves have appeared on earth!
I go looking for the sleepy flesh of fruit.
At the heart of the furrow I pick Venus' looking-glass and the violet.
My hunger,
Anne,
Anne, flee on your donkey.
Arthur Rimbaud
Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud (20 October 1854 – 10 November 1891) was a French poet known for his influence on modern literature and arts, prefig
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