sensation

Through blue summer evenings, I would go down the paths,
Pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass:
Dreamer, I feel its coolness on my feet.
I let the wind bathe my bare head.

I will not speak, I do not think about nothing:
But endless love will mount in my soul,
And I'll go far, far away, like a gipsy
By nature, happy as a woman.