|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained | |||
What follows is a spectacle of violence and vulnerability as "Scarlet and black wounds burst on the proud flesh." Rimbaud does not flinch from revealing the disfigurements that life can inflict on beauty. He suggests that beauty is never invulnerable but is subject to the brutalities and vicissitudes of existence. It isn't merely an aesthetic concept; it has its "rattlings of death" and "rings of muted music," the contradictory forces of mortality and artistry that shape it. In the face of these vicissitudes, "Life's own colors darken, dance, and separate," as if beauty holds within it the specter of its own dissolution. Despite the violent imagery, there's an effervescent reaction to these scars and wounds. They "make her adorable body rise" and "cluster about the Vision in the market place." Here, Rimbaud introduces the public aspect of beauty, placing it in the "market place" where it can be adored, commodified, or rejected. Yet, beauty stands "erect," as if reclaiming its stature from the judgments of the world and the indignities inflicted upon it. In a striking phrase, Rimbaud says, "Oh, our bones have put on a new amorous body!" It's as though the very structure of our being is transfigured by the encounter with beauty. But this isn't a simple transformation; it's amorous, filled with desire and perhaps the danger that accompanies such powerful longings. The final lines of the poem bring us back to earth with "the cannon I must fall on, in the battle of trees and light air," a reminder that the world is filled with conflicts and contradictions that beauty must endure or transcend. In a relatively short span, "Being Beauteous" manages to encapsulate the complexities of beauty-its power to elevate and transform, its vulnerability to the cruel facts of existence, and its communal yet deeply personal impact on those who behold it. Rimbaud does not offer easy answers but leaves us with an intense tableau that is at once haunting and compelling. Beauty, in his rendering, is neither a simple solace nor a cruel illusion but a potent force that engages us in all our humanity, urging us to contend with the world in all its harshness and splendor. Copyright (c) 2024 PoetryExplorer | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SEASON IN HELL: ILL WILL; MAUVAIS SANG by ARTHUR RIMBAUD A SEASON IN HELL: MORNING by ARTHUR RIMBAUD |
|