Daughter to the wind, snow-white butterfly,
Inebriate with perfume and sunlight,
Wandering from garden to amaranth,
And from iris to fiery rose alighting.
Blessed butterfly, you innocently sway
Over a thousand flowers charmed by your flight,
Each and every flower caressing in turn,
From the humblest to the proudest in the bower.
Continue happily on your swift rounds,
Fleeting, not eternal pleasure seeking,
For endless joy is only in Heaven's gift;
Avoid a fixed course; wander, wander at will;
For the most beautiful flower adorning earth
Shines for a moment, withers, bends and dies.
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Great! I love de Avellaneda's instruction to the butterfly, "Avoid a fixed course; wander, wander at will". The butterfly is the "daughter of the wind" in this poem, and she wanders without a target. She meanders amongst the flowers and enjoys her blissful existence. In turn, the flowers are enchanted by her.
I'm just as "Inebriated" as the flight of the butterfly at the reading of this poem.
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