Travelling Bohemians
Charles Baudelaire
The prophetic tribe of the ardent eyes Yesterday they took the road, holding their babies On their backs, delivering to fierce appetites The always ready treasure of pendulous breasts. The men stick their feet out, waving their guns Alongside the caravan where they tremble together, Scanning the sky their eyes are weighted down In mourning for absent chimeras. At the bottom of his sandy retreat, a cricket Watched passing, redoubles his song, Cybele, who loves, adds more flower, Makes fountains out of rock and blossoms from desert Opening up before these travelers in a yawn— A familiar empire, the inscrutable future.
Next 10 Poems
- Charles Baudelaire : Un Plaisant
- Charles Baudelaire : Une Charogne
- Arphra Behn : A Congratulatory Poem
- Arphra Behn : A Thousand Martyrs I Have Made
- Arphra Behn : Disappointment, The
- Arphra Behn : Dream, The
- Arphra Behn : Epitaph On The Tombstone Of A Child
- Arphra Behn : Love Arm'd
- Arphra Behn : On The Death Of E. Waller, Esq.
- Arphra Behn : On The Death Of The Late Earl Of Rochester
Previous 10 Poems
- Charles Baudelaire : To A Madonna
- Charles Baudelaire : To A Brown Beggar-maid
- Charles Baudelaire : The Venal Muse
- Charles Baudelaire : The Temptation
- Charles Baudelaire : The Swan
- Charles Baudelaire : The Sky
- Charles Baudelaire : The Sick Muse
- Charles Baudelaire : The Seven Old Men
- Charles Baudelaire : The Sadness Of The Moon
- Charles Baudelaire : The Remorse Of The Dead