The Butterfly
by Afanasy Fet (1820-1892)
You’re right. An outline of Air
I am so sweet.
My velvet with its living blinking–
only two wings.
Don’t ask me whence, what brought me,
where I speed.
I light the flower down, here,
and now I breathe.
How long, so aimless, so effortless,
I want to breathe?
That’s it now, flashing, raising wings
I fly away.
