On the fine nights of summer, I will go on the paths
Pricked by the wheat, to tread on the slender grass;
Dreamer, I will feel the freshness on my feet,
And let the wind bathe my bare head.
I will not speak, I will not think,
but love will fill my heart,
And I will go far, far away, nonconformist
By nature - happy as with a woman.
by Arthur Rimbaud (translated by Sunday Reed)
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