Butterfly Poem by William Jay Smith
Butterfly
Of living creatures most I prize
Black-spotted yellow Butterflies
Sailing softly through the skies.
Whisking light from each sunbeam,
Gliding over field and stream —
Like fans unfolding in a dream,
Like fans of gold lace flickering
Before a drowsy elfin king
For whom the thrush and linnet sing —
Soft and beautiful and bright
As hands that move to touch the light
When Mother leans to say good night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/15/2026 10:20:33 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
is there any pointers on how one should present this poem