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Quote by Dariusz Radziejewski

“On that September Sunday, when the excited Paul went to meet Rimbaud, the worst began. Young Rimbaud, that great talent, that poetic genius whom all of Paris supposedly awaited, must have missed Paul at the train station because he arrived alone. To our astonishment, maman and I did not see any genius but rather an uncouth and unkempt boy in shabby, dirty attire, who spoke strangely with an Ardennes accent, if he spoke at all, for he hardly said anything. He had no luggage, which raised suspicion with my mother. A person without luggage was not to be trusted. But he had beautiful blue eyes that looked shy, or so I thought at the time. Meanwhile, those innocent eyes gazed at the world cunningly and maliciously, as it would soon become apparent. Behind that childlike, pretty face of a doll hid a corrupted monster that shattered our family happiness.”

Quote by Dariusz Radziejewski

Book:Adieu, Rimbaud!
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Adieu, Rimbaud!

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Dariusz Radziejewski

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“The Abduction refers to an autobiographical event in Al-Masri’s life. When, as a young Arab woman living in France, she decides to separate from her husband with whom she has a child, the father kidnaps the baby and returns to Syria. The Abduction is the story of a woman who is denied the basic right to raise her child. Al-Masri won’t see her son for thirteen years. These are haunting poems of love, despair, and hope in a delicate, profound and powerful book on intimacy, a mother’s rights, war, exile, and freedom.”

LoveGrief And LossTranslationWriting From The HeartAbductionFrench PoetryFrench Poetry In TranslationLiterary TranslationMaram Al MasriSyrian Poetry
Book:The Abduction
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“Arthur was six years old when I left the family. Due to my infrequent stays at home, we did not form a strong bond. Occasionally, I longed for the lost fatherhood. Did he long for his lost childhood? I did not have a chance to tell him about the sea in which the stars float, about the red, fiery sunrises and sunsets, about the storm that tosses a ship like a nutshell, about flocks of screeching seagulls, schools of fish, and picturesque islets. I wanted to spin a tale about life in the desert, about the scorching sand burning the feet and the hot air shimmering with strange mirages. About wild, freedom-loving people, bizarre customs, and exotic beasts. I remember him squatting over a puddle at dusk.”

French PoetryArthur Rimbaud
Book:Adieu, Rimbaud!
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“Not long after, a response came. Verlaine invited Rimbaud to Paris. He sent along a one-way ticket. Paris was waiting for the young genius. It was about time. Arthur’s mother had had enough of him, and her ultimatum was running out: either he would find a job or he would be out on the street. He was almost seventeen and was neither in job nor in education, even though peace had come, and the school had reopened its doors.”

French PoetryArthur Rimbaud
Book:Adieu, Rimbaud!
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“Paul went to pick him up at the train station, but they must have failed to meet because Rimbaud came on his own, on foot. I expected him to be similar to my beloved romantic poets. Beautiful and childishly pure like Alfred de Musset. Or divinely handsome like Lamartine, with the appearance of a Greek god. Or manly and strikingly comely like Chateaubriand, gazing at the sea as the breeze blows his long curls of hair. As a young girl, I was in love with the poetry of our bards and their portraits. Meanwhile, here in front of our well-kept house, I saw a sloppy rascal in tattered clothes, with disheveled hair, a sweaty face, and no luggage! I was itching to ask: and where is your Sunday garb? A change of underwear? Toothbrush, clothes brush, shoe brush, handkerchief, comb? Well, call me overly idealistic, but I genuinely believed that a normal person couldn’t do without these things.”

French PoetryArthur Rimbaud
Book:Adieu, Rimbaud!
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“Because even though the portrait itself is interesting, I don’t look very favorable in it. I resemble Jesus Christ after twenty years of drinking absinthe. I have serious, sadly drooping eyes and the pale, emaciated face of a consumptive. Pastel colors have been set free, fluttering like butterflies. At first glance, they seem to have no fixed place on the canvas, only the gaze of the observer can pin them down. They are soft and resonate chromatically.”

French PoetryArthur Rimbaud
Book:Adieu, Rimbaud!
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“The conclusions of the medical examination of the accused Verlaine, conducted by doctors Semal and Vlemincks, the court also considered an aggravating circumstance. The medical report states that Verlaine’s penis is short and thin, and the glans is small and tapers toward the tip, which would indicate active pederasty. The rectum can be easily dilated by slightly parting the buttocks to a depth of about three centimeters. In this way, the enlarged infundibulum is exposed, resembling a truncated cone with a concave top. Although the sphincter folds contract almost normally, passive pederasty is also highly probable.”

French PoetryArthur Rimbaud
Book:Adieu, Rimbaud!
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