Ode to Spring
Fair Spring, a lady, palely loitering,
Whose brow is decked with flowers and with dew,
Whose bosom births youth’s essence which does bring
Unto the barren glades, a glory, new,
Where have you been for every heart had pinéd without you?
Where have you been, when winter with its shroud
Had wrapped the world with thorns of frost and snow,
And when the strength of Cheimon’s hoary cloud
Had swallowed worlds and bound from head to toe
Each aging tree, and froze the rivers which once, swift, did flow?
Fair spring, I’ve grieved and skulked in mortal grief,
And wept for endless days. I craved your breath
To make once lively every faded leaf,
And save the sprightly buds from early death,
And blossom effervescent flowers from the earth, beneath.
And birth sweet fruits, ripe with rich, temp’rate blood,
And kiss the earth’s wan cheek and ever store
With ripeness every stalk and shoot and bud
And with pure sweetness every apple’s core,
And turn to foaming bubbles and bright verdure, winter’s hoar.
The spirits of the worms all beam with pride,
And all the swift-heeled elk run round the leas,
And mid the blossoms, nightingales hide,
And sing a tune that gently, long the breeze,
Wafts through and through: an ode to you, your beauty, ne’er to cease.
Oh, spring, at last, I bear a mighty beam
For seeing your first budded rays, which bring
Upon the glades, gold wealth and honeyed dream.
At last, the winter fled upon his wing
In fright of all your powers, for you came, at last, fair spring!
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
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