Die Erwachte Rose
The Rose's Awakening


The bud was dreaming of sunshine,
Of the rustling of leaves in the wood,
Of the stream's melodious purling,
Of the nightingale's sweet singing,
Of the breeze's carressing and lulling,
Of the scents beguiling in passing.

And when the bud awoke as a rose,
She laughed gently through her tears
And looked about her and listened -
Took in the light and the sounds,
The scents and the bustle.

As all her dreams now came to be,
She thrilled in sweet wondrous awe
And whispered quietly, "It seems to me,
As if I'd experienced all this before."