Nature is a temple where living pillars
Sometimes let out confused words;
Man passes there through forests of symbols
That observe him with familiar looks.
Like long echoes that from afar blend together
In a dark and profound unity,
Vast as the night and as the light,
Perfumes, colors and sounds answer one another.
There are perfumes fresh as children’s flesh,
Sweet as oboes, green as meadows,
— And others, corrupt, rich and triumphant,
Having the expansion of infinite things,
Like amber, musk, benzoin and incense,
Which sing the transports of the spirit and the senses.
Charles Baudelaire
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-correspondences-charles-baudelaire/
