I.
I stand so bold, excited and happy.
Shall the snowballs of fate cover me up?
May the snow run in my brown hair,
may the snow cool my loving neck.
I lift my head. I have my secret, What is it that controls me?
I am whole, a hyacinth which cannot die.
I am a Spring flower with fine bells
rising full of the careless triumph of the Earth:
to live splendidly and safely,
resistanceless.
II.
I shoot up like a hyacinth of iron-hard Earth.
Break me, Life, with your mighty, juicy hands.
I kiss your hand which is juicier than I.
Break me as a jewel for a queen.
Is there a careless and unworried queen,
then let her hold the hyacinth like a scepter in her hand,
the fragile symbol of Spring, related to the sun.