The Butterfly

A couple of butterflies are flirting coquettishly,

dancing around in the fresh morning air.

Their wings flap up and down rhythmically,

while showing off their beauty with gentle care.

How splendid those thin and fragile wings look,

bestowed upon them by the Great Creator.

Their multicolored rainbow look

arouses wonder in the eyes of the admirer.

Just watch that velvety, glistening black,

interspersed with dots of pure white,

adjacent to green-striped flaming orange,

while here and there yellow spots

reveal themselves with pride.

Obviously tired of fondling one another

these noble insects now perch on a fruit tree flower

and start sucking the sweet nectar with greed,

while in the meantime the pollen powder

gets stuck to their resting feet.

In order to cut a long story short

fertilization is now to proceed with due care,

so that thanks to the butterfly's deed

various kinds of fruit will later be dangling up there.

Nutritious and succulent food indeed,

which enhances the health of mankind

and provides us with the vitamins we need

to fight illnesses of a scorbutic kind.

So you've done us an invaluable favor

for which we ought to be grateful to you.

But despite your performance of such great labor

there are some of us who think differently about you.

They deem you ought to be immortalized,

so much so that you're chased, netted and killed,

dried and locked up in boxes of different size,

while your pretty wings are kept intact by hands most skilled.

Sorry for you, dear butterfly.

True, those called human beings

can be most unfeeling, indeed.

Djoeweriah Poorwo S.