In the blue summer twilight, I'll go on the trails,
I will, pricked with grain, that through the low grass,
In her freshness, my feet tread
And let the wind bathe my bare head.
Without thought, without words, called from a distance,
With the soul, intoxicated with love,
I will go on the road, like a gypsy,
Through Nature - happy as with a woman.
In the blue summer twilight, I'll go on the trails, I will, pricked with grain, that through the low grass, In her freshness, my feet tread And let the wind bathe my bare head. Without thought, without words, called from a distance, With the soul, intoxicated with love, I will go on the road, like a gypsy, Through Nature - happy as with a woman.
Arthur Rembo