Rays spring from the West like green arrows.
The humming bird begins her flight.
Happily she flies through the green sky,
Looking for the lovely blue rose.

On the mountain peak,
Away from the human world,
She finds the blue rose waiting.
Upon the mountain peak she hovers
In silence above the rose and waits
As dawn from green grows to gold.

The sun moves on to afternoon,
The time to part.
Unwillingly, the humming bird rises above,
Hovers, circles the rose three times,
Then flies to her nest,
Far to the West.

Through my window I have watched
The crimson close of day
Followed by the silver calmness of the night.

In my lonely room no sound stirs.
Who knows that, all evening in bed
I am not sick,
And not even asleep?

A second is an hour,
An hour becomes a night as I lie staring,
Waiting for the sun to rise.
Oh, that I could be a humming bird,
And fly so swiftly to your side.

In dream the most wonderful thing happens
for I am no more a humming bird
and he, no more a blue rose
There is no more noon or night
But always morning.
How I wish that one day
the dream too, is no more a dream.