Words, words! Trained animals behind bars,
I release you. Flee back to the jungle, sweet slaves!
Anonymous new hymns — veins of silence,
I am drawn to their sex not-unsealed.
I shall find among desert rocks
That alphabet with no words, understood by
Locust and rain. What an enormous discovery:
The dead will answer and a stone will smile!
My poems will be read by metals, minerals,
Fires, devouring one another, turn to ash.
— Hey, Rimbaud, you sorcerer, splitter of vowels,
Tell me, boy: what's all the fuss about you?