On its expected seventh birthday, the child received its wanted gift:
A flower—pansy, still so little—the child’s utmost beloved wish.
“Take care of it, my sweet young daughter,” advised the mother carefully,
“It’s yours to look after. Be careful, this flower’s your responsibility.”
“I will, I will,” promised the child, admiring it with gleaming eyes.
“You have to water it,” she added, “to give it love, or else it’ll die.”
“Don’t worry, mother, I will do so,” said she and took the plant away,
Brought it outside to give it sunshine without any further delay.
When nightfall came, her mother called her: “Elisa, you must come inside!”
She quickly headed back—the flower: forgotten till the sun would rise.
As morning came, she saw the pansy—shivering after autumn winds.
Full of regret, she took it gently and hurried back to her room’s warmth.
She put it on her wooden nightstand, away from windows, from the sun
And soon enough the tiny flower started to quiver on the ground.
The second day, Elisa noticed the suffering that she had caused
And hurriedly placed it at the window—and soon enough, the flower rose.
Now satisfied she’d done her duty, she scurried off to play outside,
As sunlight bathed the small being until it bowed down due to thirst.
She suffered till the night embraced it and gave away its one last breath,
Alone, in pain; only the moonlight caressed its shape—absorbed by death.
Too late arrived the careless child: “Oh no! I forgot to water it!”
She cried out loud and quickly brought some water to pour over it.
She poured and poured in endless efforts to bring it back again to life,
She kissed its now colourless petals; she sang to it the entire night.
When morning came, she called her mother and told her of her grave mistake.
“My child, oh, I wish you’d listened… Now see what comes with negligence…
Too late you’ve given it attention, too late you’ve given it your love…
You see, when love comes when it’s too late, it’s all in vain—this you’ve now learned…
From this mistake, there is a lesson which you can take with you in life:
Offer your love in equal gestures and offer it when it is time!
For when you love only on the surface, the suffering grows cruel, deep roots,
And when you deeply love—but too late, the harm’s been done and absolute…”
– Patricia
Da Capo al Poetry 