ON A FLOWER‐OFFERING
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ON A FLOWER‐OFFERING
When she walks drunk with pride
About the garden path,
Flowerets on every side
Lift up one suppliant voice—
May she, ah God, make me
Of all the rest her choice,
Raise me from low degree
To wake the sunflower’s wrath!
—Divine fortune, that she
Should pluck you from the stem!
Your rivals toss their petals;
The shock of severance past,
New bliss of union settles
Upon your life, whose gem
Shines perfectly at last.
My heart, though it found love
In feeling hearts it its vassal—
This heart of mine, pride of
The garden of my youth,
Could never flower‐like nestle
In the desired one’s breast,
Nor ever feel the smooth
Touch of the shimmering vest.
No springtime shall come freighting
Its leaves with April’s luck,
It withers in this waiting
For her who comes to pluck.
[Translated by V.G. Kiernan]
When she walks drunk with pride
About the garden path,
Flowerets on every side
Lift up one suppliant voice—
May she, ah God, make me
Of all the rest her choice,
Raise me from low degree
To wake the sunflower’s wrath!
—Divine fortune, that she
Should pluck you from the stem!
Your rivals toss their petals;
The shock of severance past,
New bliss of union settles
Upon your life, whose gem
Shines perfectly at last.
My heart, though it found love
In feeling hearts it its vassal—
This heart of mine, pride of
The garden of my youth,
Could never flower‐like nestle
In the desired one’s breast,
Nor ever feel the smooth
Touch of the shimmering vest.
No springtime shall come freighting
Its leaves with April’s luck,
It withers in this waiting
For her who comes to pluck.
[Translated by V.G. Kiernan]
