Arthur Rimbaud: "Back When" (1886)

Formerly, assuming I remember correctly, my life was a banquet, wherein all hearts were open, and all wines flowed. One night, I sat beauty on my lap.—And I found her to be bitter.—And I hurled abuse at her.

I have armed myself against justice.

I have made an escape. Oh witches, oh misery, oh hate, it is to you my treasure I do confide! I managed to make vanish from my spirit all the hope of humanity. For all the joy of strangling hope, I pounced as silently as a ferocious beast.

I called the executioners to come forth, as I lay dying, so that I might gnaw the grips of their guns. I called for the scourge to choke me with sand and blood. Catastrophe has been my deity. I dried off in the air of crime. And I took great joy in playing puzzling pranks.

And Spring brought me the dreadful laughter of the imbecile.

However, always, as of late, I find myself to be on the verge of making the last quack! I once dreamed of finding the key to my feasts of old, so I might reawaken my former hunger.

That key was charity!—This inspiration alone proves that I am a dreamer.

"A hyena you will remain, etc." So crows the Demon, who crowned me with a laurel of friendly flowers. "Go! Earn your death with all of your gluttony, your pride, and your intoxicating sin."

Ah, I have taken too much! My sweet Satan, I beseech thee: view me with a less irritated eye, you who, in the writer, are most in love with those who lack the ability to describe and instruct; and, while we wait for a few small, slow lapses of mine to emerge, I offer you these hideous leaves from my notebook of the accursed.