The phoenix

In the garden of Paradise, under the tree of wisdom, grew a rose bush.
wisdom, there grew a rose bush. On its first rose
a bird was born; its flight was like a ray of light, its colors magnificent
its flight was like a ray of light, its colors magnificent, its song rapturous.
But when Eve took the fruit of the knowledge of the knowledge of good and evil, and when she took the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil
good and evil, and when she and Adam were cast from
from Paradise, from the angel's flaming sword there fell a spark
of the angel fell a spark into the bird's nest
and set it on fire. The little animal died
burned to death, but from the red egg flew out
another bird, unique and always the same: the Phoenix Bird.
Phoenix. Legend has it that it nests in Arabia, and that every
that every hundred years it dies
burning in its own nest; and that from the red egg
red egg hatches a new Phoenix bird, the only one in the world.
the only one in the world.
The bird flies around us, swift as the light, splendid as the light
like light, splendid in color, magnificent in its song.
in its song. When the mother sits
the child's cradle, the bird approaches the pillow and, spreading its wings, brings
the pillow and, spreading its wings, traces a halo around the
halo around the child's head. It flies
through the sober and humble chamber, and there is
sunshine in it, and on the poor chest of drawers
and on the poor chest of drawers some violets exhale their perfume.
But the phoenix is not only the bird of Arabia;
it flutters also to the gleams of the aurora borealis
over the icy plains of Lapland, and leaps among the yellow flowers
leaps among the yellow flowers during the brief summer of Greenland.
Greenland summer. Beneath the cupriferous
the cupriferous rocks of Falun, in the coal mines of England
England, it flies like a powdered moth over the devotional
on the devotional book in the hands of the pious
worker. On the lotus leaf it glides through the sacred waters of the Ganges
sacred waters of the Ganges, and the eyes of the Hindu maiden
Hindu maiden's eyes light up at the sight of it.
Phoenix bird, do you not know it? The bird of paradise, the holy swan
Paradise, the holy swan of song? It was in the chariot of Thespis
chariot of Thespis in the form of a crow
chattering, flapping its black-painted wings;
the harp of the Singer of Iceland was plucked by the red
red sonorous beak of the swan; perched on Shakespeare's shoulder
Shakespeare's shoulder, it took the form of Odin's
Odin's raven and whispered in his ear:
Immortality! When the singers' feast,
she flitted in the contest hall of the Wartburg.
Wartburg.
Phoenix bird! Don't you know her? She sang you the
Marseillaise, and you kissed the feather that came
from her wing; she came in all her paradisiacal splendor, and you kissed the feather
paradisiacal splendor, and you perhaps turned your back on it
to contemplate the sparrow that had golden foam on its wings.
golden foam on its wings.
The Bird of Paradise! Rejuvenated every century,
born among the flames, among the flames
your image, framed in gold, hangs in the halls of the rich.
in the halls of the rich; thou thyself so often flies
often fly away, solitary, made only a legend: the Phoenix
legend: the Phoenix Bird of Arabia.
In the garden of Paradise, when you were born in the womb of the first rose
the womb of the first rose under the tree of wisdom
God kissed you and gave you your true name: poetry!
your true name: poetry!