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Correspondences

Rating: 2.9

(From the French of Charles Baudelaire)

All nature is a temple where the alive
Pillars breathe often a tremor of mixed words;
Man wanders in a forest of accords
That peer familiarly from each ogive.

Like thinning echoes tumbling to sleep beyond
In a unity umbrageous and infinite,
Vast as the night stupendously moonlit,

All smells and colors and sounds correspond.
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