Through evenings blue with summer, pricked by wheat,
I’ll roam the roads and crush the grass I tread,
Will dream and feel its coolness underfoot,
Will let the breezes bathe my naked head.
I will not speak, I will not think a thing,
Yet infinite love will rise up in me.
Far, far I will wander like a vagabond
In Nature like a woman's company.
Other Arthur Rimbaud songs:
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