Butterflies
In a fragile vase
In your chamber are
Preserved butterflies
That when touched by
A brilliant sun ray
Turn to mother-of-pearl,
Pieces of iridescent
Evening sky
Or opaline glimmer
Of velvety wings;
There the azure
Daughters of the air,
Mercurial wings
Now fixed forever,
Wings that traversed
Unexplored valleys
That like the desires
Of your enamored soul
Seem, at dawn,
To be revived
When you unlatch
Your windows and sun
Explodes in your eyes
And in crystalline panes.
