You, who has the sun in your hand And the flowers of youth in your hair, Walk lightly through the quiet woods, Where shadows soft and wild things dwell.

The ferns whisper secrets of old, The trees stretch their arms to the sky; Nature’s heart beats in the stillness, An ancient song that never dies.

Capture this moment, let it linger, In the deep silence of the night; Let the moon guide you through the darkness, To the magic of nature’s light.

• Arthur Rimbaud