In the rain,

Flowers bend under the weight of the droplets,

Their stalks tilting but not snapping.

Among these is the Lily,

Not yet flowering, a bulb bursting with life.

The same rain that bends the others serves only to feed the Lily,

The bulb growing stronger.

I urge it to flower one of these days,

Partly to tower above the weeds,

Partly because it is not fair for such a flower to be kept packed up and hidden.

The bulb is not the Lily,

The Lily is more than the bulb,

More than the ground or the roots,

The Lily is in the flower.