Enigma with Flower, by the magnificent Pablo Neruda

Phalaenopsis (Moth) Orchid

Victory. It has come late, I had not learnt

how to arrive, like the lily, at will,

the white figure, that pierces

the motionless eternity of earth,

pushing at clear, faint, form,

till the hour strikes: that clay,

with a white ray, or a spur of milk.

Shedding of clothing, the thick darkness of soil,

on whose cliff the fair flower advances,

till the flag of its whiteness

defeats the contemptible deep of night,

and, from the motion of light,

spills itself in astonished seed.

Beautiful beyond words, but not much of an enigma, if you know what I mean :). It took me until the end of the second line to figure it out. Gorgeous.