translation based on Charles Baudelaire's "Paysage". I ran it through a translator and went back, changing some of the English words into other and translating some of the English back into French.
I want, to chastement compose my eclogues,
To lay near du ciel, like the astrologers,
And, close to the bell-towers to listen by dreaming
Their solemn anthems carried by the wind.
The two hands hold the chin, at the top of my attic,
I will see the workshop which chante and which bavarde;
Pipes, bell-towers, these masts of the city,
And large the skies which makes dream of eternity.
It is soft, through the fogs, to see being born
L’etoile in the azure, the lamp at the window
the rivers of coal to go up to the firmament
And la lune to pour its pale enchantment.
I will see springs, the summers, the autumns;
And when comes L’hiver to monotonous snows,
I will close everywhere doors and shutters
to build in the night my fairy-like palais.
Then I will dream of the bluish horizons, les jardins,
the water jets crying in alabasters,
Of the kisses, of the birds singing evening and morning,
And all that Idylle has of most childish.
The Riot, storming vainly at my pane,
will not make raise my face off my desk; Because I will be plunged in this pleasure to evoke le Printemps with my will,
to draw a sun de mon coeur, and to make
my thoughts extreme, a tepid atmosphere.