Sensation by
Arthur Rimbaud
On blue summer evenings, I will travel the paths,
Tickled by the wheat, trodding the light grass :
Dreaming, feeling its coolness upon my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.
I shall not speak, I shall not think,
But infinite love will ascend to my soul;
And I will go far, far away, as a gypsy,
Through the Land, happy - as with a woman.