There was a youthful annoyance in the rivers,
And the grass which blew with the winds of change.
The green fields echoed the raffish volte-face of time,
And seasons turned over in its wake.
Trees sprang up, buds blossomed into flowers galore,
Winter deemed to pause in its stride.
Nature kissed its feet,
Time stood still,
And the ice melted in everyone's hearts,
Filling them with the warmth and radiance of spring.
In the skies one can see the birds return,
From their time in hibernation,
Rebuild their nests in their favorite trees,
Osculating their little ones.
A new life emerges, new changes arrive,
And love emprises beyond its pen.
The vespertine wreath of light shines upon the moment,
And leaves us with a toothsome glow.
Spring fills life and life fills up with spring,
Each petal unfolds a moment of peerless joy.
Every star shines brighter, every cloud whiter,
Amidst the azure of endless boundaries.
Hope springs, like the eyes of a newly born,
And peace ensues, like its first cry.
Tales of spring tell us many stories,
Like the king who was very ill.
And a hundred medicines and daintier food,
The king, could not cure.
Then, a shepherd came from afar,
From the pastures, with a lonesome fiddle.
In the far distance of the kingdom, men and women halted,
And came to the castle that day,
The tune that spring played,
By the hands of the young peasant,
For the king of the land to hear.
Maidens sighed, in love with love itself,
While the elves stopped singing to listen to his tune.
And he played on, and the world listened.
Spring is a song of not just life and love,
But the very essence of living that is a spring in disguise.
Hope is ephemeral but like the spring that erupts from underneath us,
It gives us hope to hope on that is the spirit of life.
For nothing is material but that which we beat,
Nothing is eternal but eternal time.
The song of spring is not just a song,
A time in guise, in a moment in time.
Her eyes, of love, fluttered eyelids,
Black kohl, red lipstick, pink cheeks, she watched
Him, with gently parched lips, with shining love,
As he walked away that day, leaving
The king to rule many a years more.
A thorn pierced my heart as I paused,
Singing to the song, pausing to look at the wonders of spring.
It had been my last, that I sung to his tune.
And now it was time to rest,
Time for summer to arrive.
- Hirak.
And the grass which blew with the winds of change.
The green fields echoed the raffish volte-face of time,
And seasons turned over in its wake.
Trees sprang up, buds blossomed into flowers galore,
Winter deemed to pause in its stride.
Nature kissed its feet,
Time stood still,
And the ice melted in everyone's hearts,
Filling them with the warmth and radiance of spring.
In the skies one can see the birds return,
From their time in hibernation,
Rebuild their nests in their favorite trees,
Osculating their little ones.
A new life emerges, new changes arrive,
And love emprises beyond its pen.
The vespertine wreath of light shines upon the moment,
And leaves us with a toothsome glow.
Spring fills life and life fills up with spring,
Each petal unfolds a moment of peerless joy.
Every star shines brighter, every cloud whiter,
Amidst the azure of endless boundaries.
Hope springs, like the eyes of a newly born,
And peace ensues, like its first cry.
Tales of spring tell us many stories,
Like the king who was very ill.
And a hundred medicines and daintier food,
The king, could not cure.
Then, a shepherd came from afar,
From the pastures, with a lonesome fiddle.
In the far distance of the kingdom, men and women halted,
And came to the castle that day,
The tune that spring played,
By the hands of the young peasant,
For the king of the land to hear.
Maidens sighed, in love with love itself,
While the elves stopped singing to listen to his tune.
And he played on, and the world listened.
Spring is a song of not just life and love,
But the very essence of living that is a spring in disguise.
Hope is ephemeral but like the spring that erupts from underneath us,
It gives us hope to hope on that is the spirit of life.
For nothing is material but that which we beat,
Nothing is eternal but eternal time.
The song of spring is not just a song,
A time in guise, in a moment in time.
Her eyes, of love, fluttered eyelids,
Black kohl, red lipstick, pink cheeks, she watched
Him, with gently parched lips, with shining love,
As he walked away that day, leaving
The king to rule many a years more.
A thorn pierced my heart as I paused,
Singing to the song, pausing to look at the wonders of spring.
It had been my last, that I sung to his tune.
And now it was time to rest,
Time for summer to arrive.
- Hirak.
