The Perfume of the Flower

In a bower of heaven’s garden, A houri became anxious and said: ‘No one ever told us about the region On that side of the heavens.

I do not understand About day and night., morning, and evening, And I am at my wits’ end When they talk about birth and death.

She became a waft of perfume And emerged from a flower branch; Thus she set foot In the world of yesterday and tomorrow.

She opened her eyes, Became a bud, and for a time smiled; She turned into a flower, Which soon withered and crumbled to the ground.

The memory of that lovely maiden- Her feet unshackled- Is kept alive By that sigh of hers which is called perfume.