The composition written in high school, in order to understand Rimbaud, after watching "Total Eclipse", the young man's heart was deeply shocked and endured for a long time.
You are a shooting star across the sky, the short life and the burst of passion Yu Haohao Long Night is only a short moment, but in an instant it becomes eternity.
Your name is Arthur Rimbaud.
Your appearance is the greatest madness in a decadent age. A rebellious boy in ragged clothes, rebellious and swaggering through the market, despising God and ignorant pedagogy, and a genius poet with a shocking pen, the two are just one in you. You are a poet of the future, and you are judged that way. It is also doomed that you are an orphan in this mediocre era. But how can you stop screaming? Singing "My life is nothing but gentle madness, my eyes are blue, but I refuse to be blue," throwing his shimmering light into the dark night sky.
"Either don't hurt others, or be ruthless, and don't use apology to insult those who have been hurt by you." You, who dare to love and hate, met the most important friend and confidant in your life at the age of sixteen— —French poet Verlaine. He gave you love and you gave him passion. He and you escaped the life he was tired of, playing sheep in the wilderness, waking up in haystacks, watching the sea together in fine weather, and going after the freedom and madness you wanted. During this period of time, your poetry and talent have burned with the most fiery brilliance, and you have created the most prolific poetry in your life. But he has failed you after all - you long for the soul's acquaintance and companionship, but he is only satisfied with the physical love. You are obsessed with chasing the distance in your dreams, but he indulges in the madness of absinthe. "Only the sun can heal me, do you understand? I want the sun!" You told him, but he couldn't understand the freedom and eternity in your dreams.
So you chose to leave. After writing "A Season of Hell", you closed the pen, bid farewell to poetry, and bid farewell to the disappointing Verlaine. Some people say that you left the literary world because of Jiang Lang's talents. Let me refute them with your words to Verlaine: "I don't write anymore, because I have nothing to say. The world is too old, there is nothing new, and everything has been said by others. It is me who writes poetry. I can do whatever I want.” This is not retreating, it is clearly moving forward persistently. A cowardly friend has let you down, a mediocre world has let you down, the old age is dead, and the new age is powerless to be born. You have to leave everything behind and move forward alone. Because your life is so vast that it is not just dedicated to strength and beauty.
I know that the sun in your heart is one step closer. You traveled around the three continents of Europe, Asia and Africa, joined the army, worked as an overseer, worked as a translator, and finally became a businessman. Some people say that you live as you hated in the past. No, you have fulfilled the promise you made when you first entered the world of poetry: "It's not enough to be a person, I want to be everyone." You put down your pen and live a life poem. Isn't this freedom what you've been looking for? Too many people seem to stick to their mission all their lives, but in fact, they have long been shackled and their enthusiasm has withered. And your vast and free life echoes endlessly in the hearts of generations.
Illness has taken away your young life prematurely, and the new era you have longed for has arrived. Your rebellious spirit was deeply apprehended by the revolutionaries of the 20th century, and your poetic value was affirmed by the laurel of "the originator of surrealist literature". And in my heart, you have always been the unruly teenager, the sea breeze blows your messy long hair, the sun lights up your blue eyes, and you look into the distance like this, chanting:
"I found it
find what?
eternal.
That is the sun and the sea, complement each other. "
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