Poem by Rimbaud and Verlaine

San Cassimally
2 min readDec 3, 2021

An irreverential collaborative poem

Verlaine and Rimbaud by Fantin de la Tour

Verlaine had kept his homoerotic leanings under wrap, and was leading what appeared to be a typical bourgeois family life with his wife Mathilde and their child, until he invited the seventeen-year old Rimbaud to his home in Paris. The explosion of the passion between them was uncontainable. Verlaine left wife and child, and fled to Bruxelles with the younger poet. The relationship between them was quite stormy, fuelled by drugs and alcohol, and after a bitter quarrel, the older man shot his young lover, wounding him only slightly. They separated shortly after, never to meet again, living unhappily ever after. But in the heat of their passion, they collaborated on what was then called a scandalous piece of verse.

L’Idole, Sonnet du Trou du Cul

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 !

My English translation

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

--

--

San Cassimally

Prizewinning playwright. Mathematician. Teacher. Professional Siesta addict.