Of all creatures in my ornamental garden, simple,
I admire and adore you, O butterfly beautiful!
Might be due to your tenderness or feebleness,
Or even just because of your very beautifulness…
I see you enjoying your experimental world,
With freedom, fearlessness, and joy abundant;
You sit upon whatsoever flower you want,
Inhaling freely their nectar whenever you need;
Fluttering your wings freely as and when you like,
Flying away from even best of flowers you dislike;
When you sit on some flowers you show endlessness,
While on others you seem to display hurriedness;
When you fly away from flowers you give an impression,
As though dusting pollens and thus enabling pollination;
When you fly you seem flying like an airplane nonstop,
At varying speeds and zigzag or flip-flap or hip-hop;
Often your unavailability of time you exhibit,
And stay lesser than soap-bubbles or fastest tied;
Yet you seem to enjoy each and every moment,
And displaying enthusiasm and freedom, and zest;
A miniature universe in yourself, you resemble
With forms, shapes, colors, and glamorous full;
How brief, indeed, O butterfly, is your lifespan!
Yet, are you worried at all about any hell or heaven?