Arthur Rimbaud - Sensation

Sensation

On the blue summer evenings,


I shall go down the paths,


Getting pricked by the corn,


crushing the short grass:


In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.


I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.


I shall not speak,


I shall think about nothing:


But endless love will mount in my soul;


And I shall travel far, very far, like a gipsy,


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



Arthur RimbaudMarch 1870.