Two Beautiful Flowers

If I could ever write

Two beautiful songs,

They would be for the ones I admired—

Those two beautiful flowers.

I would caress them every morning

Before I went to work,

And like a bird in flight

They gave me wings.

And in the evening when I returned

With tired wings,

They ran to me and I held them close,

And I flew from joy.

And when spring arrived

And they opened their petals,

The bees circled them with care

On their transparent wings.

In the beautiful summer

When the broom trees bear fruit,

Before midday came

They too had blossomed.

From the two flowers

Came two more just as fair—

More beautiful than songs:

These grandchildren of ours.