Calycanthus: Calycantus Praecox
Flower of the Verno
While each other close to him
languish and die under the frost,
just a flower in my garden
opens on the stem:
this flower, dear to so much,
the han called Calicanto.
Not happy when the sun
life arouses and colors,
and the ajuole are cheerful
in the perfume of their flowers,
to the warmth that fertilizes it
i don't give any fronds.
But at the redir of the winter, then ...
Oh, kind miracle!
The green falls, and the flowers bloom
as if it were in April;
or who weeps for the other body
Are you giving a flower for each leaf?
You do not need to culture,
the frost does not offend you, the wind:
whoever draws from misfortune
and life and food,
t so, on naked branches
under the wind and the gel you open up.
your yellow and black tint
it is also shabby, it is also sad;
reminds me of a flag
too agitated themitals ...
But because it smells sweet,
I lose your colors.
He told me that I flower
a story in itself contains
of hope or pain
of revenge or virtue;
and the muse of a courteous man
I learned more than one of them.
But of the flower devoted to the verno
History is an arcane to me;
in his stamens not the scerno;
in the stel I look for it in vain;
I ask him sometimes,
but he does not speak or listen to me.
Why does it bloom in the middle of the gel?
Why is strong is so sad?
Where was it born, and how does it smell?
Why do they call Calicanto?
Who will tell me will know
of his flowers a wreath will have.