Just look at the firefly, 
See how she flies, 
Leading her sisters. 
Where did she go? Where did she go? 
Ask her little spark 
On the grass or on the flowers. 

On the flower of pink and white, 
Suspended on the branch 
Of the fragrant foliage; 
On the verdant grass, 
Just to taunt the naughty one! 
The poor glow worm... 

Tell me, shining fly, 
Are you perhaps the wandering soul 
Of an unhappy lover? 
Or are you a soul of sorts 
In whom resides a flame so intense 
That it must burn for two? 

Are you a messenger of pleasure or of pain? 
Is it an angel who brings you 
Your wings in the night? 
Or is it some dark demon 
Who ignites, in the darkness, 
Your lamp which shines? 

No, no, you must be joyful, 
O luminous fly, 
Daughter of the nights of summer, 
For your brief life
Seems to me a sweet mystery
Of love and of beauty.