Arthur Rimbaud. (№ 312529)

The seriousness of not to face, when seventeen years...
One night off mugs and glasses
And bustling cafés, and chandeliers bright light!
Wander under the trees the time has come for you.
In June, under the lime-trees breathe easy
And I want to close my eyes, it's so beautiful!
Noise can be heard city - because he just
And in the wind - the scent of greenery, and beer.
Notice there suddenly the flap over the head,
Flap darkening of the sky in the frame
Branches, topped with a flashing star,
What a quiet thrill will freeze momentarily.
June! Seventeen years! Flowering branches juice
Champagne, whose hops are drunk your mind is idle,
On her lips you have, like a small animal,
A kiss trembles, and your speech is impaired.