in the blue summer evenings, i will go along the paths,
and walk over the short grass, as i am pricked by the wheat:
daydreaming i will feel the coolness on my feet.
i will let the wind bathe my bare head.
i will not speak, i will have no thoughts:
but infinite love will mount my soul;
and i will go far, far off, like a gypsy,
through the countryside - joyous as if with a woman.
-arthur rimbaud, 1870