The Humming Bird
Rays spring from the East like purple arrows.
The humming bird begins his flight.
Happily he flies through the purple sky,
Looking for the lovely pink rose.
On the mountain peak,
Away from the human world,
He finds the pink rose waiting.
Upon the mountain peak he hovers
In silence above the rose and waits
As dawn from purple grows to gold.
The sun moves on to afternoon,
The time to part.
Unwillingly, the humming bird rises above,
Hovers, circles the rose three times,
Then flies to his nest,
Far, far to the East.
Through my window I have watched
The crimson close of day
Followed by the silver calmness of the night.
In my lonely room no sound stirs.
Who knows that, all evening in bed
I am not sick,
And not even asleep?
A second is an hour,
An hour becomes a night as I lie staring,
Waiting for the sun to rise.
Oh, that I could be a humming bird,
And fly so swiftly to your side.
In dream the most wonderful thing happens
for I am no more a humming bird
and she, no more a pink rose
There is no more noon or night
But always morning.
How I wish that one day
the dream too, is no more a dream.
