A butterfly looks joyful
Fluttering in the open air,
And bathing in the sun's warm light.
Yellow, red, and purple flowers
Bloom on the veranda
But, dear butterfly, it is always your favourite white flower
That you hower next to like a helicopter.
Enjoying the taste of the nectar for a moment
You rise away again,
Flow with the wind,
And tease the yellow and red flowers
But you always come back to the white one.
They say in the south islands that,
The departed soul comes back home,
Transferred onto a butterfly.
Maybe a tiny flower bed was enough
To put the soul at rest.
A favourite nectar and
The wings to freely fly in the air
Gave you the greatest happiness.
That is what the pleasure of being free is like.
Perhaps, a little bit of heaven
Is actually all around us.
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