Child and Butterfly

Tiny little Butterfly,
Will you ever tell me, why,
Flying since the crack of dawn,
You are not fatigued or worn?
Is your living sour or sweet?
How do you make ends meet?
Tell me, where, if you would,
Are you finding all your food?

In the woodlands, in the fields
In the meadows are my yields;
Here's where I fly and play
On a brilliant summer's day.
Loved and cherished by sunlight,
I keep flowers in my sight:
Their blossoms, when in bloom,
Nourish me with sweet perfume.
Yet, my life is short, I say,
It but lasts a single day,
Be a good and gentle boy,
Do not hurt me, nor destroy!

tatar fairy tales