Awake, awake, to this bright shining day.
The sparrows are testing the breezes.
The scent of the blossoming olives from Russia
Lies heavy like oranges juicy and sweet.
I love it, I love it.
Joy mixes with sorrow.
The bushes and grasses now green in the spring
Dry and brown will become on the morrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem