(no subject)
In cities, suddenly, the mud seemed red and black like a mirror when the lamp moves about in the adjoining room, like a treasure in the forest! Good luck, I cried, and I saw a sea of flames and smoke in the sky; to the right, to the left all the riches of the world flaming like a billion thunder-bolts...
I dragged myself through stinking alleys and, eyes closed, I gave myself to the sun...
I'll return with limbs of iron, dark skin and furious eye; people will think to look at me that I am of a strong race. I will have gold: I will be idle and brutal. Women nurse those fierce invalids, home from hot countries. I'll be mixed up in politics. Saved.
Now I am an outcast. I loathe the fatherland. The thing for me is a very drunken sleep on the beach.
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell