Blue summer evenings, pricked by stalks of wheat
,I’ll walk the paths, crush short grass where I tread:Dreaming,
I’ll feel its coolness on my feet.
And I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.

No words, no thoughts: but in my soul will grow
A boundless love, and, like a Romany,
Far, very far, through woods and fields, I’ll go,---
Happy as if a woman walked with me.

Arthur Rimbaud

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