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The brilliant king of day, setting in his glory,
Descends slowly from his chariot of victory.
The shining cloud that hides him from our eyes
Keeps in golden furrows his trace in the skies,
And with a purple reflection floods the expanse.
Like a golden lamp, in the azure suspended,
The moon sways at the edges of the horizon;
Its weakened rays sleep on the grass,
And the veil of night unfolds over the mountains:
It is the hour when nature, for a moment recollected,
Between the falling night and the fleeing day,
Rises to the Creator of day and night,
And seems to offer to God, in its brilliant language,
The magnificent homage of creation.
Behold the immense, universal sacrifice!
The universe is the temple, and the earth is the altar;
The heavens are its dome: and these countless stars,
These half-veiled fires, pale ornament of the shadow,
In the azure vault with order sown,
Are the sacred torches lit for this temple:
And these pure clouds that a dying day colors,
And that a light breath, from sunset to dawn,
In the plains of the air, softly folding,
Rolls in purple flakes to the edges of the firmament,
Are the waves of incense that rises and evaporates
Up to the throne of the God whom nature adores.
But this temple is voiceless. Where are the holy concerts?
From where will the hymn to the king of the universe rise?
All is silent: my heart alone speaks in this silence.
The voice of the universe is my intelligence.
On the rays of evening, on the wings of the wind,
It rises to God like a living perfume;
And, giving a language to every creature,
Lends my soul to nature to adore him.
Alone, invoking here his paternal gaze,
I fill the desert with the name of the Eternal;
And he who, from the bosom of his infinite glory,
Hears the harmony of the spheres he ordains,
Also hears the voice of my humble reason,
Which contemplates his glory and murmurs his name.
Hail, principle and end of yourself and of the world,
You who make immensity fertile with a glance;
Soul of the universe, God, father, creator,
Under all these diverse names I believe in you, Lord;
And, without needing to hear your word,
I read on the brow of the heavens my glorious symbol.
The expanse reveals to my eyes your greatness,
The earth your goodness, the stars your splendor.
You have produced yourself in your brilliant work;
The entire universe reflects your image,
And my soul in turn reflects the universe.
My thought, embracing your diverse attributes,
Everywhere around itself discovers and adores you,
Contemplates itself and discovers you there still
Thus the star of day shines in the heavens,
Reflects itself in the wave and paints itself to my eyes.
It is little to believe in you, supreme goodness, beauty;
I seek you everywhere, I aspire to you, I love you;
My soul is a ray of light and love
Which, from the divine hearth, detached for a day,
By devouring desires far from you consumed,
Burns to return to its flaming source.
I breathe, I feel, I think, I love in you.
This world that hides you is transparent to me;
It is you I discover at the bottom of nature,
It is you I bless in every creature.
To approach you, I fled into these deserts;
There, when the dawn, stirring its veil in the air,
Half-opens the horizon that a nascent day colors,
And sows on the mountains the pearls of dawn,
For me it is your gaze that, from the divine dwelling,
Half-opens upon the world and spreads the day upon it:
When the star at its noon, suspending its course,
Floods me with heat, with life and with light,
In its powerful rays, which revive my senses,
Lord, it is your virtue, your breath that I feel;
And when the night, guiding its cortege of stars,
Over the sleeping world casts its dark veils,
Alone, in the heart of the desert and of darkness,
Meditating on the gentle majesty of the night,
Enveloped in calm, and shadow, and silence,
My soul, more closely, adores your presence;
With an inner day I feel myself illuminated,
And I hear a voice that tells me to hope.
Yes, I hope, Lord, in your magnificence:
Everywhere with full hands lavishing existence,
You will not have limited the number of my days
To these days here below, so troubled and so short.
I see you everywhere preserving and producing;
He who can create disdains to destroy.
Witness of your power and sure of your goodness
I await the endless day of immortality.
Death surrounds me in vain with its funeral shadows,
My reason sees the day through these darknesses.
It is the last step that brings me closer to you,
It is the veil that falls between your face and me.
Hasten for me, Lord, this moment that I implore;
Or, if, in your secrets you still hold it back,
Hear from the height of heaven the cry of my needs;
The atom and the universe are the object of your care,
With the gifts of your goodness sustain my indigence,
Nourish my body with bread, my soul with hope;
Warm with a glance of your almighty eyes
My spirit eclipsed by the shadow of my senses
And, as the sun draws up the dew,
Into your bosom, forever, absorb my thought.
Alphonse de Lamartine
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-the-prayer-alphonse-de-lamartine/