Appendix II

On Daffodils

I transcribe the beautiful poem by William Woodsworth, an Englishman, who with rare sensitivity registered the glorious blossoming of golden daffodils. It is followed by a free translation, by me. I will explain the reason for this: when I was seventeen, I was charged with the task of “tearing open” the text for an English exam by a very demanding teacher. I got the highest grade. And that meant 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration. And as a result of this effort, I have always wanted to see a daffodil. Forty-five years later, this opportunity came to me, when my daughter was undergoing surgery, in 2007, in Little Rock, United States. They were blooming in their entire splendor, justifying Woodsworth’s inspiration, in 1804, as he walked on the margins of Ullswater Lake with his sister Dorothy, in a tempestuous day.


I wandered lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o´er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line,
Along the margin of the bay:
Ten thousand I saw at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company.
I gazed and gazed - but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft when on my couch I lie,
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.