El cardo azul

In my manicured garden
slender, haughty and gallant,
a wild thistle bloomed,
with its tufts of tulle;
and the dew with its mantle
that seemed like pearls,
at dawn covered
the strands of the blue thistle.

But the kiss of dawn
that the radiant sun sent her,
with its kisses deflowered
that mantle of the morning blossom;
in very fine drizzles
the pearls fell to the ground,
and as blue as the sky,
the flower remained again.

You no longer show to the dawn
the joppel of your beauty,
no longer enchants the freshness
of your tulle plumes;
and looking at you withered
without candor and without essence,
you no longer flatter my existence
poor little blue thistle.