Sensation

Sensation

On 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 in my soul;

And I will go far, far off, like a gypsy,

through the countryside – as happy as if I were a woman.

March
1870