Rodola
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Someone asked, where did the flowers come from?
In May, when the sea breeze penetrated our loneliness,
I found fresh red roses in the Woods,
Spreading leafless flowers in wet corners,
To please the desert and slow streams,
Purple petals, falling in the pool,
Make black water with their beautiful gays;
Hong Niao may drop its feathers here,
Courting the flowers that belittle his array.
Rodola. If the sage asks you why
This charm is wasted on the earth and the sky,
Tell them, honey, if eyes are for seeing,
Then beauty is an excuse for its existence.
Why did you go there? Oh, Rose's opponent!
I never thought to ask, I never knew:
However, in my simple ignorance, suppose
The power that brought me there also brought you.