On top of the hedge, above the cart track
There is a unique little plant.
Every day I pass near it,
And every day I look at it:
It’s only a dog rose…
A curly barb in her blossoms
Among the thorns, on the back of the hedge.
How extraordinary among the shrubs!
And delicate! My wild-rose
Is dressed like a queen…
“A golden crown and dress of red silk,
Diamond-studded with the night-dew,
Shining in the morning Sun,
Almost as pretty as an angel.”
Alas! it is short-lived beauty…
Each rose blossom lasts only a day
Its face open to the light,
The Sun warms its center,
It is caressed by the butterfly
And stung by the bee.
And by the time the sun has set,
Its red silk dress will have faded
And its golden crown have dissipated;
The end will come to the curly rose…
But another will open tomorrow.
July 1962.
Translated by Lenora Timm
