I have plucked br Every primrose and daisy br Sprouting in myriad colours br On every wild vegetation, br Grown around my neighbour’s fence. br br I have also plucked br All the flowers on my path br In their youthful fragrance, br Of spilled out pollen, br And in their sealed-dreams, br Clinging intimately to the br Tender stems of unknown creepers. br br I don’t know br For whom they bloomed, br For the hot Sun? br For the cool Moon? br Or for the soothing South Wind? br Just see! br The flowers have never complained, br Either loud or in whispers, br Or perhaps br I have not cared to heed br Their effeminate indignation br Against my reckless passion, br br Believe me. br I have also not spared br All the early flowers br Of Spring and Summer br Grown in the distant meadows br Only to press them for you br Between the covers.br br R.