My Tune

How much talk these roses keep on making—

and still she is silent, while this canary whispers on.

Yesterday it grazed her neck with its lilac claw,

and today her breast is bruised from all the scratching.

"And what is that to you?!" — "And you, what is it to you?!"

— "Tell me: did you feel it scratch you, then, the way it scratched me?!"

A Spray of Lily

For all that this lily's shoots have climbed so high—

and still she stands there, telling it... whoever counts them now miscounts—

"Jelnar! Take care you do not stand beside them:

its soldiers just might think that you are its own!"