Nature is a temple where the living pillars
Let sometimes leave confused words
Man passes there through forests of symbols
Which observe him with familiar looks
Like long echos which from far away confound
In a shadowy and deep unity
Vast like the night and like the light
The perfumes, the colours and the sounds answer themselves
There are perfumes fresh like the flesh of infants
Sweet like oboes, green like the prairies
-- 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
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