Young white rose,
Why do you stand there,
A baby all curled up,
Your petals closely folded over
Where the morning touch
Of dew and sun cannot reach
And show Your beauty?

    Young white rose,
Why now do you open
Your snow tinted arms
To embrace the colours of the sun
And taste the mix of fragrances
Which the playful wind brings
As proof of Spring?

    Young white rose,
Why do you pause there,
Showing your pride and your loveliness,
Giving to the breeze your perfume,
And to the bees your seed
To take unknowing,
That perchance you start anew?

    Young white rose,
Why do you wilt now?
For Spring is here fullest;
Yet you shed your petals,
Give back to the earth all your life,
Return all your waters to the dew,
And die.

    Young white rose,
I have seen you here often,
In the morning you live
Yet in the evening die.
Young white rose,
Please tell me:
Why?


				             1973