A poet makes himself a visionary through a long, boundless, and
systematized disorganization of all the senses. All forms of love, of
suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he exhausts within himself
all poisons, and preserves their quintessences. Unspeakable torment,
where he will need the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, where he
becomes all men: the great invalid, the great criminal, the great
accursed—and the Supreme Scientist! For he attains the unknown! Because
he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone! He attains
the unknown, and, if demented, he finally loses the understanding of his
visions, he will at least have seen them! So what if he is destroyed in
his ecstatic flight through things unheard of, unnameable: other
horrible workers will come; they will begin at the horizons where the
first one has fallen!
~ Arthur Rimbaud
No comments:
Post a Comment