Seeing the Daffodil Again

Withwafts of fragrance you come out to greet me: a bowl of clear water meets yourlife's need.

For contacts of the eye and the heart, our yearlyencounter is too long for me to wait and too short for you to last. I make itroutine to look after you: to take you out in the sun during the day and moveyou in to a warm shelter at night.

You come out as expected on the Eve of the SpringFestival, unfolding the long-awaited petals softly like the approachingfootsteps of an angel; your elegant fragrance lingers in the room, confidingyour love for life.

Savoring the Guanyin tea in a placid mood, I feast myeyes on you in fresh green, pure white and light yellow, leaving no room forthought of the profound universe or vast land. Your colors may not be deemedbright, but enough to render me in great delight.

Your fragile beauty identifies with that of a delicatelady rather than of a robust country girl. You do not take root in earth notbecause of your distaste for its filth; the shallow pool of water does notaccount for your precarious fate. It is not your fault; you are made by chance,shaped by the kaleidoscopic world. Your existence may not be natural butsomewhat unusual. You hold on to the belief that as long as you cherish the sunand the moon in your heart, nothing can shake your faith.

Why must all lives follow the same pattern? Yet yourunique stance has alienated you from the sky and earth: so it does need courageto express individuality. Perhaps giving up is a state of mind: You gave upbeing common so you have gained the present sublimity and final transformationto immortality. Only at this moment do I get a grip on the essence of freedom!

In order to gain sublimity, you have no choice but toreconcile to your fate with no complaint but only serenity. You know sublimityand fragrance are your special tributes to spring.

As I gaze at the daffodil, the clamorous world graduallyfades away and again peace prevails.

In a glass container of clear water the daffodil standsin grace, with her primitive charm still well preserved. Thinking of the earthand the air that once nurtured her, I wonder if she can affect an uncompetitivemind. But I am sure she will nourish a tender heart. Hence she compresses herreticence and temperance into a refined fragrance, clean and pure, to touch thevast land! There is no need of propagation or exaltation; she herself willsuffice to kindle every girl's imagination!

Gently caressing the leaves and petals, I perceive a newelement of life's vitality. Her lasting colors, though light and simple as amaiden's, come from the secular earth yet stay aloof from it, thus tint herwith a touch of Buddhism. Her vitality transcends all material and secularways, enhancing her lofty and flowing grace.

With her fragrance around, life's passage turns warmer.There is a story behind every daffodil lover, a story likely to be neglected asthe flower.