I wanted this morning to bring you some roses;
But I had taken so many in my gathered belts
That the knots, too tight, could not contain them.
The knots burst. The roses flew away,
Into the wind, to the sea—they all were swept away.
They followed the water, never to return;
The wave seemed red and as if set aflame.
This evening, my dress is still perfumed with them…
Breathe from me their fragrant memory.