FLOWERS OF WATER-LILY

Oh, that delicate and superstitious colour! The emerald-looking scaly green, which in the summer's swaying, drunken stupor the trees put on like a ball gown when the first Cyclops sparkle, the blessed fertility-giving Sunbeam, descends upon them! When the night's shelter calls the diamond-eyed stars' fire-lanterns, That slumbering angelic breathing existence may not be endangered!

The rainbow-coloured landscape still sheds its fertile and ripe sunshine: the fiery-wheel-flame of the hot tongues of flame, as if it were a flame! - I watch in mute emotion, how from the neighbouring courtyards of Budaörs and Törökbálint the hard-working and melancholy wind-breezes secretly smuggle cooling breezes towards the lamb-like clouds!

May the hard-working and carefully guarding and kind-hearted angels play their peaceful and fruitful symphony of peace in my ever-fragile ears, if the ugly and deceitful world should leave me a penniless and alien wanderer - at least let there be something and someone: a deceitful and mischievous fairy of mercy goodness who will hold up the shower of my sad pessimistic tears And with the whisper of her enchanting heart-flower, Like a blessed healer, care for my wounds like a renewing water-lily's blossom!