Je m'en allais, les poings dans mes poches crevées ; Mon paletot aussi devenait idéal.
Mais moi je ne veux rire à rien ; Et libre soit cette infortune.
Il faut être absolument moderne.
Le chant des cieux, la marche des peuples ! Esclaves, ne maudissons pas la vie.
Les Fleuves m'ont laissé descendre où je voulais.
Il dit : « Je n'aime pas les femmes. L'amour est à réinventer, on le sait. »
Baudelaire est le premier voyant, roi des poètes, un vrai Dieu.
© 2026 My French LLC
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