'The flag makes its way through filth-ridden lands, and our dialect muffles the pulse of the drums.
'In the interior, we shall feed the fires of cynical prostitution. We shall meet justifiable revolt with massacre.
'So -- to the dark, dank lands of spices! In the name of the most craven industrial and military exploitation.
'Goodbye to this place, anywhere will do. We're willing conscripts. We take an implacable line. We know nothing of science but we’re gluttons for rest and recreation. The world and its notions can crawl off and die. This is progress – the real thing. Forward, march!’
From Arthur Rimbaud’s Illuminations; translated by Jeremy Harding and John Sturrock