The highs and lows of teenage dirtbag Arthur Rimbaud.

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SENSATIONS

Through blue summer nights I will pass along paths,
Pricked by wheat, trampling short grass:
Dreaming, I will feel coolness underfoot,
Will let breezes bathe my bare head.

Not a word, not a thought:
Boundless love surging through my soul,
And I will wander far away, a vagabond
In Nature—as happily as with a woman.

-Arthur Rimbaud (1870)