Novel

I.

No one's serious at seventeen.
--On beautiful nights when beer and lemonade
And loud, blinding cafés are the last thing you need
--You stroll beneath green lindens on the promenade.

Lindens smell fine on fine June nights!
Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes;
The wind brings sounds--the town is near--
And carries scents of vineyards and beer. . .

II.

--Over there, framed by a branch
You can see a little patch of dark blue
Stung by a sinister star that fades
With faint quiverings, so small and white. . .

June nights! Seventeen!--Drink it in.
Sap is champagne, it goes to your head. . .
The mind wanders, you feel a kiss
On your lips, quivering like a living thing. . .

III.

The wild heart Crusoes through a thousand novels
--And when a young girl walks alluringly
Through a streetlamp's pale light, beneath the ominous shadow
Of her father's starched collar. . .

Because as she passes by, boot heels tapping,
She turns on a dime, eyes wide,
Finding you too sweet to resist. . .
--And cavatinas die on your lips.

IV.

You're in love. Off the market till August.
You're in love.--Your sonnets make Her laugh.
Your friends are gone, you're bad news.
--Then, one night, your beloved, writes. . .!

That night. . .you return to the blinding cafés;
You order beer or lemonade. . .
--No one's serious at seventeen
When lindens line the promenade.

by Arthur Rimbaud

Other poems of RIMBAUD (124)

Comments (12)

Classic Rimbaud, the unsuspecting paradigm shift: that night your lover writes...(something sweet...i love you) , NO, that night you return to the Blinding cafes and order beer, but then he brings you out of the hole with another paradigm shift - -no one's serious at seventeen. Rimbaud in A Season In Hell, mentions Islam a couple times, but in all his writings he never once uses the words Jew or Jewish. In this poem he talks about dark blue stung by a sinister star small and white. I will often think of him often at all times of the day and He did come after shakespear
if blinding cafes are too that at 17, can I use that as an excuse for not going to a party at 62?
its a sincere fact of the age group 17 and its factually true...no one is serious at 17...careless attitude and the love for everything...love it
No one is serious at seventeen I just like this since it's the fact of life, Nice piece.
You're in love! With the muse of life and the nature of things around you. Nice piece.
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