Words: Rimbaud // Sensation

Par les soirs bleus d’été, j’irai dans les sentiers,
Picoté par les blés, fouler l’herbe menue :
Rêveur, j’en sentirai la fraîcheur à mes pieds.
Je laisserai le vent baigner ma tête nue.

Je ne parlerai pas, je ne penserai rien :
Mais l’amour infini me montera dans l’âme,
Et j’irai loin, bien loin, comme un bohémien,
Par la Nature, — heureux comme avec une femme.

In the blue summer evenings, I will go along the paths,

And walk over the short grass, as I am pricked by the wheat:

Daydreaming I will feel the coolness on my feet.

I will let the wind bathe my bare head.

I will not speak, I will have no thoughts:

But infinite love will mount in my soul;

And I will go far, far off, like a gypsy

Through the countryside- joyous as if I were with a woman.

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