To a Christmas rose II
Günter Klinzing
A flower's germ sleeps in the winter soil,
The butterfly that, round bush and hill,
Will sway its velvety wings in spring nights;
It shall never taste your nectar.
Who ever knows, if its delicate spirit,
After the summer's beauty has swooned,
Will not one day, drunk with your soft scent,
Invisible to me, circle around you in bloom.