Song of the Flower

Song of the Flower XXIII

By Khalil Gibran

I am a kind word uttered and repeated

By the voice of Nature;

I am a star fallen from the

Blue tent upon the green carpet

I am the daughter of the elements

With whom Spring gave birth; I was

Reared in the lap of Summer and I

Slept in the bed of Autumn

At dawn I unite with the breeze

To announce the coming of light;

At eventide I join the birds

In bidding the light farewell.

The plains are decorated with

My beautiful colors, and the air

Is scented with my fragrance.

As I embrace Slumber the eyes of

Night watch over me, and as I

awaken I stare at the sun, which is

The only eye of the day.

I drink dew for wine, and hearken to 

the voices of the birds, and dance

To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.

I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;

I am the memory of a moment of happiness;

I am the last gift of the living to the dead;

I am part of joy and a part of sorrow.

But I look up high to see only the light,

And never look down to see my shadow.

This is wisdom which man must learn.