As I was passing through forests so bright, With a heart laden, yearning, filled with light, Leaves twinkled as if a thousand stars, Starlit, shimmering, with no wars. The golden sun struggled to escape, Through the green bower from its dark drape, I met two birds, chirping away, Questions and answers in their own play.

O nature divine, I cling to thy breast, Ramparts of life where sorrows find rest, In the rustling of leaves, to be reborn, Bathed in dew that the dawn has adorned.

• Arthur Rimbaud