there in the biography of Arthur Rimbaud (the poet acclaimed cliché rebellious youth and pimples) written by Enid Starkie (and published in English by Siruela), an episode which is not given the importance it deserves and I, on the contrary, catalogaría as essential to understand the psychology of the French author. Namely, a Rimbaud 30 years away full of literature, and dedicated to the most varied professions (among them, the arms dealer and, perhaps, slaves) is found in Aden (Yemen) where he has returned from Harar (Ethiopian city) "with Abyssinian woman, probably a slave, "Starkie says (page 498), with the firm intention to make her his wife. To this end, he decided to send it to the French mission in the area to receive an education. However, in October 1885, taking advantage of the preparations for a trip, decide Rimbaud return to his country "giving him some money." In fact, "so is the repatriated properly. " That is, to marry, the former poet decides to buy a slave and cultivate his taste. It's interesting.
But stop a moment and accept that Rimbaud "important" is one beautiful and wild teen who wandered on the wild side of life in a pathetic company Verlaine. Remember the immortal Rimbaud is "A season in Hell", that of "Illuminations", the rebel and extremely gifted young spendthrift literature led to a confrontation deicide and inexplicably consumed when he was twenty years.
Although not so inexplicably. Exotic fantasies of the poet Charleville reeled in his books, his desire for adventure and experiences reflected in his poems, got the reward in the form of reality: Rimbaud abandons the literary exercise "to the age when others begin" and sets off, opting to provide his dreams true juvenile. And travel. And you risk. So far so good. It is even admirable. Not all are so brave. Almost no one is, in fact.
But the fate of the poet, far from cherry-picked lead to the triumph adventurer plunges into a succession of failed experiences, accidents, illness, murder, dubious morality and terrible loneliness. What looks like gold in the mind of a bourgeois hope be disgusted by, it becomes a nightmare subdued, not quite unbearable, but it gradually undermines and destroys the foundations of his brilliant intelligence. Rimbaud unlearn his life in a catastrophic choice that ultimately leads to long life which could be: the undisputed triumph, and so terribly far before the age of thirty.
And buy a slave ... Reading the hardship of the poet, it is surprising that at no time, you pass through my head the idea of \u200b\u200breturning to France (where his books begin to be known and revered by a court of fans who know the author) to take charge of their letters and / or sedentary bourgeois know some young man from "good family" of fine manners and raise a family with many children, become the prince of poets or a mere functionary. It remains a wild and even his quest for "normalcy" is full of lunatic behavior. Everything becomes ugly when you play Rimbaud. And he realizes it. And then get sick and die without having built his life as the young man thought. There are only refining their books as evidence of failure. He, during the years before his death, is upset when he recalls his past as a "wunderkind" of letters. No wonder. Rimbaud know what has happened and what no (which is even more serious and painful). As he said in one of her poems, once sat on the beauty on her knees and insulted. Picked up a bitter seed. Finally, it could not continue the charade, take it to the most painful extreme, deep loneliness knows who lost. It was his choice. He could never get rid of it. Did you really wanted?
But stop a moment and accept that Rimbaud "important" is one beautiful and wild teen who wandered on the wild side of life in a pathetic company Verlaine. Remember the immortal Rimbaud is "A season in Hell", that of "Illuminations", the rebel and extremely gifted young spendthrift literature led to a confrontation deicide and inexplicably consumed when he was twenty years.
Although not so inexplicably. Exotic fantasies of the poet Charleville reeled in his books, his desire for adventure and experiences reflected in his poems, got the reward in the form of reality: Rimbaud abandons the literary exercise "to the age when others begin" and sets off, opting to provide his dreams true juvenile. And travel. And you risk. So far so good. It is even admirable. Not all are so brave. Almost no one is, in fact.
But the fate of the poet, far from cherry-picked lead to the triumph adventurer plunges into a succession of failed experiences, accidents, illness, murder, dubious morality and terrible loneliness. What looks like gold in the mind of a bourgeois hope be disgusted by, it becomes a nightmare subdued, not quite unbearable, but it gradually undermines and destroys the foundations of his brilliant intelligence. Rimbaud unlearn his life in a catastrophic choice that ultimately leads to long life which could be: the undisputed triumph, and so terribly far before the age of thirty.
And buy a slave ... Reading the hardship of the poet, it is surprising that at no time, you pass through my head the idea of \u200b\u200breturning to France (where his books begin to be known and revered by a court of fans who know the author) to take charge of their letters and / or sedentary bourgeois know some young man from "good family" of fine manners and raise a family with many children, become the prince of poets or a mere functionary. It remains a wild and even his quest for "normalcy" is full of lunatic behavior. Everything becomes ugly when you play Rimbaud. And he realizes it. And then get sick and die without having built his life as the young man thought. There are only refining their books as evidence of failure. He, during the years before his death, is upset when he recalls his past as a "wunderkind" of letters. No wonder. Rimbaud know what has happened and what no (which is even more serious and painful). As he said in one of her poems, once sat on the beauty on her knees and insulted. Picked up a bitter seed. Finally, it could not continue the charade, take it to the most painful extreme, deep loneliness knows who lost. It was his choice. He could never get rid of it. Did you really wanted?
Drawing Paul Verlaine. 1872
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