Arthur Rimbaud’s “My Bohemia”

I set out, fists in tattered pockets crammed,My worn coat turning to a mere ideaOf a coat, under the sky—to you, Muse, loyal—And oh! the splendid love affairs I dreamed!

My only pair of pants exposed my skin.Tom-Thumb-sized dreamer, I kept strewing rhymes.The Great Bear constellation was my inn.The stars on high relinquished tinkling chimes.

And seated by the roadside I would feelOn fine September evenings, drops of dewNeedle my brow like wine alive with fire;

While rhyming in the midst of shadows weirdI’d pluck the laces of each holey shoeClose to my heart, like playing on a lyre.