Sensation
 
On 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 gypsy,
Through the countryside, - happy as if I were with a woman.
 

                                           -Arthur Rimbaud.