There was a tender
muse-like moment of charm, such an Apollonian tear
when the cute bee set down on a noble rose
in the kind calyx of the bloom, full dreamy splendour
the gentle sun smiled, at that time, at it fairy-like
oh, a sweet morning gracefulness of rays,
the owl stayed with the courage that is in the habit
of flying into an ancient forest homewards
there was endlessly angelic-beautiful early spring
a tender March like a breath with pleasant smell of hummingbirds
and in bright nightly moonlight which is fulfilled in splendour of butterfly
the ghosts of open fields are dreaming incredible with the gleaming time of fantasy
dreams about the morning star and this steeped in legend Venus
boasted about the dreamy bee with marvellous native glow
because it experienced something very old such a butterfly-like feeling
as if it had been infinite fledged as the heavenly she-daydreamer
that bee wanted to relish only the dew
take a few drops of an eternal water to itself
easy drinking and its wings dipping
yes the rose was knowing in a gorgeous dream of the primeval delight
as soon as the insect looked in the mild kind dew
it saw there an enchanting minute small mirror
through the mirror the bee observed the dreamful nature
the hidden spring mermaid from an other time as trace of ontology
that was the boundless wonderful eagle-like eternity
what a melancholic land of spring dream-magic!
the mermaid with the harp was a young poet of muses
that youth forsooth with a thousand warm lights of hearts
the bee dreamed like an Apollonian rider
through the March into April
meanwhile the soul of the bee became tender
willing to a starry flight as well as worth the ambrosia
the while in rosy calyx and mermaid´s observation
have enchanted forever the dream of the eternity