Snowdrop
He was small and elegant
He lay with his nose in the ground.
He was only looking for a way out.
To smell the Spring.
He waited patiently,
He listened obediently.
With his mind he thought of good things.
With his soul he kept on hoping.
And one day, early in the morning,
Before I had even washed my face,
I noticed right there in the garden,
That from the very same root,
Snowdrop had poked his head out again.
He was tiny and a sorry sight;
Soaked through, drenched and drooping,
But quickly I gave him a pep talk:
Come now, chin up, little Snowdrop,
For you are no longer quite a bud,
It is about time I gathered you,
Shook you off and set you
In my vase with the other flowers.
"I beg your pardon?" he said, rather shaken.
"I have only just come up from the ground,
And you would gather me up? Give me away again?"
Yes, I said, short and to the point,
For it is the season for giving again,
For today is the Mărțișor,
"Again?" he shrieked, horrified,
His voice gone slightly shrill.
Again, I answered in a flash.
You should have seen the little gentleman then,
How quickly he changed his tune
And whispered to me with narrowed eyes:
"And if you didn't give me away, what then?"
And what would I give you? I said charmingly.
"Let me think... a diamond?"
Oh, the trouble with snowdrops,
They drag you into the poverty of the times.