O his breaths, his heads, his racing; the terrible
swiftness of the perfection of forms and of action.
O fecundity of the spirit and immensity of the
universe!

…

Let us, on this winter night, from cape to cape, from the tumultuous pole to the castle, from the crowd to the beach, from glance to glance, our strengths and feelings numb, learn to hail him and see him, and send him back,
and under the tides and at the summit of snowy deserts, follow his seeing, his breathing, his body, his day.

—Rimbaud, “Génie,” Illuminations   

TRANSLATED BY JOHN ASHBERY