An obscene collaboration of Verlaine and Rimbaud
Once Verlaine gave up his mundane and pseudo-respectable life and ran away to Bruxelles with the sixteen-year old Rimbaud, they indulged in all available sins of the flesh. And together they composed the outrageous sonnet to the anus: The Idol, the Anus Sonnet.
trans. by San Cassimally
The idol, the anus sonnet
Dark and crinkled like a violet carnation
It’s breathing in a moss this hidden gem
Still moist after love and its gentle evasion
From white buttocks to the heart of its hem
Filaments looking like milk teardrops
Shed by the cruel explosion pushing
Through little brown clots of slops
Before losing itself down, the slope beckoning
My dream is to fill his vacuum with my sputum
My soul, jealous of coital penetration
Turned it into a wild store of lacrimation
It’s the fainting olive and the flute conniving
The hole down which goes the divine lollipop
Female Chanaan in its moist backdrop
L’Idole, Sonnet du Trou du Cul
by Verlaine and Rimbaud
Obscur et froncé comme un oeillet violet
Il respire, humblement tapi parmi la mousse
Humide encor d’amour qui suit la fuite douce
Des Fesses blanches jusqu’au coeur de son ourlet.
Des filaments pareils à des larmes de lait
Ont pleuré, sous le vent cruel qui les repousse,
À travers de petits caillots de marne rousse
Pour s’aller perdre où la pente les appelait
.Mon Rêve s’aboucha souvent à sa ventouse ;
Mon âme, du coït matériel jalouse,
En fit son larmier fauve et son nid de sanglots.
C’est l’olive pâmée, et la flûte caline,
C’est le tube où descend la céleste praline :
Chanaan féminin dans les moiteurs enclos !!
