I will walk through the fields on blue summer evenings,
pricked by the corn, crushing grass in my tread.
I’ll feel the air on my feet, as though I were dreaming,
and be bathed by breezes that blow across my head.
I will not speak. I’ll think of nothing at all.
Like a pastoral gypsy, I will wander far and wide,
as infinite love rises up in my soul.
And I’ll be happy as a man with a woman by his side.
Arthur RimbaudTranslated from French by Paul Weinfield, © 2013