He longs to be free from this cell,
With eyes just starting to see,
Antennae unfurl, small wings uncurl,
The birth of a honeybee.
Carousing from flower to flower,
A most fecund fellow is he,
Follows the sun, a tiny Don Juan,
The work of a honeybee.
His loving does not last forever,
No longer can he clearly see,
Inner fires dim, and so begins,
The death of a honeybee.
Let It Bee
