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All the flowers.
All the flowers, of course, I love them.
The pale lilies with their languid greetings.
The fluets lilies whose satin is gilded.
In their powdery golden chalice.
And the blue blueberries,
whose azure decorates
the undulating wheat,
and the ragweed that opens the dawn
of his cold fingers.
But above all, above all, I am in love,
While crazy glosses
fill the happy gardens,
lilac lilac lilacs
and pink roses.
All the flowers, of course, I love them.
The cyclamen with fragile bouquets,
the mimosas whose bush is gilded,
And the dear jasmines so pretty,
And the sweet brooms,
Whose breeze oddly,
And the fine lilies of the valley,
The silver lilies,
So fresh when the dawn
Wet the groves.
But above all, above all, I am in love,
However, that crazy gloses
fill the happy gardens,
lilac lilacs
and pink roses.
All the flowers, of course, I love them.
All the flowers whose beauty blossoms,
the light worries whose light gilded
Your hair to the blonde tea makers,
the velvety
iris Which still
lends You its gracefulness,
And the carnation which puts your cheek and dawn
in rivalry.
But above all, above all, I am in love,
In your dear lips declares
And in the rings of your eyes,
lilac lilacs
And pink roses.
Edmond Rostand
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