Fluttering in the dark night breeze,
All around her shivers with the coldness,
and her wings beat in time with the heart of the forest,
the silent sensation when all her world hushed.
Exhaling breathlessly, the thick greenery dozing to sleep,
Leaving her to find her place among the golden flowers,
with a purplish hue cast down from the sky above.
She lands light as a feather, not even the gentleness shift
in the air she disturbs.
She is alone, on her soft powdery pillow of gold.
She gazes hastily over the big world around her,
Nothing moves… all is silent,
only the low night lullaby sung by crickets and the distant hoots of owls.
She watches, the little dark orange butterfly,
as all the world dreams.