There lies in my garden
A plain-looking maiden
Ever plain, ever green
Yet eye-catching to every being
She lies so still, with her leaves spread out
But shies off, if touched, like a cloud of doubt
"Why dost thou hide thineself from thine beholder?
Shalt one not perceive thine beauty ever?"
Would you now hide from the world forever
And be then forgotten, once you wither?
I tell you, let beauty be in the eyes of your creator
And all other things in the hands of our father.
