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Élévation Elevation

Au-dessus des étangs, au-dessus des vallées,

Des montagnes, des bois, des nuages, des mers,

Par delà le soleil, par delà les éthers,

Par delà les confins des sphères étoilées,

Mon esprit, tu te meus avec agilité,

Et, comme un bon nageur qui se pâme dans l'onde,

Tu sillonnes gaiement l'immensité

Avec une indicible et mâle volupté.

Envole-toi bien loin de ces miasmes morbides;

Va te purifier dans l'air supérieur,

Et bois, comme une pure et divine liqueur,

Le feu clair qui remplit les espaces limpides.

Derrière les ennuis et les vastes

Qui chargent de leur poids l'existence brumeuse,

Heureux celui qui peut d'une aile vigoureuseS'élancer vers les champs lumineux et sereins;

Celui dont les pensers, comme des alouettes,

Vers les cieux le matin prennent un libre essor,— Qui plane sur la vie, et comprend sans

Le langage des fleurs et des choses muettes!

Above the lakes, above the vales,

The mountains and the woods, the clouds, the seas,

Beyond the sun, beyond the ether,

Beyond the confines of the starry spheres,

My soul, you move with ease,

And like a strong swimmer in rapture in the wave You wing your way blithely through boundless space With virile joy unspeakable.

Fly far, far away from this baneful miasma And purify yourself in the celestial air,

Drink the ethereal fire of those limpid regions As you would the purest of heavenly nectars.

Beyond the vast sorrows and all the

That weigh upon our lives and obscure our vision,

Happy is he who can with his vigorous

Soar up towards those fields luminous and serene,

He whose thoughts, like skylarks,

Toward the morning sky take flight— Who hovers over life and understands with

The language of flowers and silent things!— Translated by William

Elevation Above the valleys and the lakes:

The woods, seas, clouds and mountain-ranges:

Above the sun, the aethers

With nebulae, and the remotest star,

My spirit! with agility you move Like a strong swimmer with the seas to fight,

Through the blue vastness furrowing your

With an ineffable and male delight.

Far from these foetid marshes, be made

In the pure air of the superior sky,

And drink, like some most exquisite liqueur,

The fire that fills the lucid realms on high.

Beyond where cares or boredom hold dominion,

Which charge our fogged existence with their spleen,

Happy is he who with a stalwart pinion Can seek those fields so shining and serene:

Whose thoughts, like larks, rise on the freshening breeze Who fans the morning with his tameless wings,

Skims over life, and understands with ease The speech of flowers and other voiceless things.— Translated by Roy

Above the valleys, above the mountains, above the sea,

Above the mists that rise at morning from river and pond — Beyond the sun, beyond the fringe of the ether,

The boundaries of the fields of stars and nebulae,

With what deep bliss, with what insatiable delight,

My soul, like a good swimmer reveling in the wave,

You plunge into immensity!

With what a

Mute joy you saturate yourself in the clear height!

Fly!

Oh, indeed, fly far from this unwholesome place!

Go and be purged in radiance, wheeling higher and higher:

Be drunken, be washed through with the transparent fire,

Be lost in the serene bright solitudes of space!

From these low vapors hanging in the windless air,

From these miasmas fraught with ancient woe and ill,

Most blest, most fortunate is he who can at

Take flight into a region luminous and fair — He whose unwearied thoughts on effortless light

Go up like larks at morning, and circle without

Above the wakening land — aloof and free — and

The voices of the flowers and of all voiceless things!— Translated by George

Above the ponds, above the valleys,

Mountains, woods, clouds, and seas,

Beyond the sun, beyond the heavens,

Beyond the confines of starry spheres,

My spirit, you roam with agility,

And, like a good swimmer bracing the waves,

You soar happily into profound

With exquisite male delight.

Fly, far away from these noxious surroundings;

And cleanse yourself in the pure air above,

And drink, the clear fire that fills lucid spaces,

As you would a pure and divine liqueur.

Behind the nuisances, and the vast

Amassing with their weight our bewildered existence,

Happy is he who can with a vigorous

Propel towards the luminous and serene realms;

He whose thoughts, like larks,

Free, in the morning take flight,— Hover over life, and understand with

The language of flowers and silent things!— Translated by Said Leghlid  Élévationabove the valleys and above the meres,above the mountains, woods, the clouds, the sea,beyond the sun, beyond the canopyof aether, and beyond the starry spheres,o Mind, thou soarest easily and well,and like a swimmer tranced in lifting seas,thou cleavest all those deep immensities,thrilled by a manly joy far beyond this fog of pestilence; fly!go purge thy squalor in the loftier air;go quaff the pure Olympian ichor whereclear fires fill the whole pellucid sky.behind the cares, the dark anxietiesthat on our sunless hours drag and drift,happy is he whom sturdy pinions liftin spirit, toward those fields of light and peace;o happy he whose thoughts, unfurling wings,leap skyward like the lark at morning's call,— who soars above this life, resolving allthe speech of flowers and of voiceless things!— Translated by Lewis Piaget

Above the ponds, beyond the valleys,

The woods, the mountains, the clouds, the seas,

Farther than the sun, the distant breeze,

The spheres that wilt to

My spirit, you move with

And, like a good swimmer who swoons in the

You groove the depths immensity gave,

The inexpressible and male ecstasy.>From this miasma of waste,

You will be purified in superior

And drink a pure and divine liqueur,

A clear fire to replace the limpid

Behind this boredom and fatigue, this vast

Whose weight moves the mists of existence,

Happy is he who vigorously fans the

Toward serene and luminous fields—wincing!

The one whose thoughts are like skylarks taken

Across the heavens mornings in full flight—Who hovers over life, understanding without

The language of flowers and mute things.

Translated by William A.

Sigler

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Charles Baudelaire

Charles Pierre Baudelaire (9 April 1821 – 31 August 1867) was a French poet who also produced notable work as an essayist, art critic, and one o…

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