Reality being too thorny for my great personality. <br />--I found myself nevertheless at my lady's, <br />an enormous gray-blue bird soaring toward the moldings <br />of the ceiling and trailing my wings <br />through the shadows of the evening. <br />At the foot of the canopy supporting her adored gems <br />and her physical masterpieces, I was a great bear <br />with violet gums, fur hoary with sorrow, <br />eyes on the silver and crystal of the consoles. <br />Everything became shadow and ardent aquarium. <br />In the morning,-- bellicose dawn of June,-- <br />a donkey, I rushed into the fields, <br />braying and brandishing my grievance, <br />until the Sabine women of the suburbs <br />came and threw themselves on my neck.<br /><br />Arthur Rimbaud<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bottom-7/
