-translation of Correspondances,
Nature is a forest where the living limbs
Of trees drop clues like dying leaves
On anyone beneath them who believes
In such ghostly passing whims,
Distant echoes of a dark and deep ravine
Where night and day are intertwined
And in whose mixing light we find
What the deeper colors mean.
These combining scents would seem
To fuse us in a purer world,
Where amber dusk and incense dream
Of all the endless riches swirled
And held by music's gleam,
But which in fact are just its seam.