I have seen a yellow butterfly
Flying in the deep path,
Turning and dancing
And she’s joyful, and she’s vibrant.

The primroses quivered
And said to one another:
—Well look at her zigzagging!
Is she drunk? Or is she frolicking?
Drunk with the perfume of the pussywillows,
Or dazzled with the gold of the heath?

The narcissus, they greeted her
And asked her to come to them—
Humbly with heads inclined,
Smiling under their hats—
But, toward the violet
The butterfly descended,
The violet of blue eye!

…The narcissus are heartbroken…

June 1968.

Translated by Lenora Timm

This poem in breton

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