A violet blooms in the vale,
Awakens in the beam of morning;
So scented and so blue
Is no other upon the meadow.
 
Quietly it peeps forth from the moss,
In its golden calyx
Dew sparkles as brightly and purely
As liquid jewels.
 
"Thus unseen, do you wish to fade away
Here in the cold moss?
Come along to a milder valley,
Into the beams of more beautiful suns."
 
"You shall live in more temperate zones,
In hills of flowers,
Where the snow never vanishes,
But eternal springtime wafts!"
 
The violet allowed itself to be picked
In order to adorn a milder valley,
And its blueness appeared darker
Upon the blindingly white meadow.
 
And from the beating of the bosom the violet adorned
The drops of dew dripped off;
The most precious diamond
Never found a more beautiful setting.
 
How delicately the drop adorned the bosom!
The violet saw it and, in sweet
Delirium of love, pressed
Its calyx to the bosom even more fervently.
 
In the seat of the scents of spring
It breathed forth its scents
Upon the purest sunbeam,
And died in the most beautiful valley.