Omnis mundi creatura
quasi liber et pictura
nobis est in speculum;
nostrae vitae, nostrae mortis
nostri status, nostrae sortis
fidele signaculum
Sic aetatis ver humanae
iuventutis primo mane
reflorescit paululum;
mane tamen hoc excludit
vitae vesper, dum concludit
vitale crepusculum.
Rosa dum primo mane floret,
defloratus flos effloret
II:vespertino senio:II
Ergo spirans flos exspirat
in pallorem dum delirat
II:oriendo moriens:II
In nos primum dat insultum
poena mortis gerens vultum
labor mortis histrio,
nos proponit in laborem
nos assumit in dolorem
mortis est conclusio

All creation, every creature
Faithfully reflects our nature, 
Is a painting, book, or sign 
Where our present is depicted 
And our future state predicted 
With precision, line on line.

What we are we see in roses, 
Lovely glossary that discloses
How to read our mortal page. 
Bravely they in dawnlight flower, 
And then droop from hour to hour 
Toward crepuscular old age. 


Therefore, with each breath expiring, 
Fragrant petals fade, aspiring 
Only to expand and glow: 
Inwardly with wrinkles laden, 
Like a crone inside a maiden, 
Roses dwindle as they grow. 


So, in human life's fair morning 
When our vernal day is dawning, 
We at first may bravely bloom; 
But that morning darkens slowly 
Toward life's evening, and is wholly 
Lost in twilight's general gloom.


Of earth's beauty, grace, and glory 
There's one melancholy story: 
In a little while they pass. 
Death extracts its tribute cruel, 
Ashes, dust, for girl or jewel, 
Roses turned to hay like grass. 
 
(trans. by Harold McCurdy)