sensation: a translation of rimbaud

by the blue evenings of summer, i will go on the paths
prickled by the wheat, trample the tender grass
dreamer, i will sense the freshness on my feet
i will let the wind bathe my naked head
i will not speak, i will think nothing
but infinite love i show in my soul
and i will go far, very far, like a bohemian
by Nature, happy like with a woman

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s