Monday, December 22, 2008


Marianne Stokes "Madonna of the Fir Tree", 1925 

On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass:
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head. 

I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing:
But endless love will mount in my soul;
And I shall travel far, very far, like a gipsy,
Through the countryside - as happy as if I were with a woman.
-Arthur Rimbaud

1 comment:

Braine73 said...