A speaker announces a decision to leave, and the calm in which they make it is strange to them. Quiet is something they have "borrowed," as if peace were a loan and not something they own, and they say it is the first they have known in their life. That detail suggests a restless past, and the departure feels like the end of a long struggle.
The speaker is not running away in a panic. They "settle my accounts with myself," which sounds like paying off old debts, and they carry fear in hand, not hidden or denied. The last image is the most surprising: instead of packing a bag, they "furnish my mind with a tent." A tent is temporary and light, and it can be moved. The mind becomes a place to live while travelling.
The mood is steady and clear-eyed, with some nervousness underneath. The title names Rimbaud and a year, so it may be read as a portrait of him, though the poem itself never says so.