Rimbaud

Lyrics
The nights, the railway-arches, the bad sky His horrible companions did not know it; But in that child the rhetorician's lie Burst like a pipe: the cold had made a poet Drinks bought him by his weak and lyric friend His senses systematically deranged To all accustomed nonsense put an end; Till he from lyre and weakness was estranged Verse was a special illness of the ear; Integrity was not enough; that seemed The hell of childhood: he must try again Now, galloping through Africa, he dreamed Of a new self, a son, the engineer His truth acceptable to lying men
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Credits
- Writers
- Hans Werner Henze
- W.H. Auden