One Morning In April Poem by Nero CaroZiv

It was an April morning; before Passover day
So fresh and clear; a day that swept all worries and anguish away
New invigorated rivulets from last winter were delighting in their strength and glee
Running they were with a wild speed; and yet the voice to be
Of murmuring waters which the winter had supplied
Was softened down into a vernal tone


The spirit of enjoyment and desire
Childish hopes were at their peak; wishes, from all living things
Caught me in tempest; went circling, like a multitude cane phony of sounds.
The white budding groves seemed eager to urge on
I could feel the steps of May in queue; as if their various hues
Were only hindrances that stood between them and their object



But meanwhile, prevailed and exalted
Such an entire contentment in the air
That every naked ash, and tardy, sturdy tree
Yet leafless with expectations for bloom showed as if the countenance
With which it looked on that delightful day
Were native to the upcoming summer;


Up the brook I roamed as a child in the zeal and confusion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all agitations and worries
At length I to a sudden turning came
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The stream, so ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound,


That all which I till then had heard, appeared the voice
Of common pleasure: vermilion tulips; beasts and birds
The shepherd's dog strolling with the cows spread into banana orchard;
the linnet and the thrush vied with that waterfall encircled by proud reeds and made a song,
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth
Or like some natural produce of the air,


That could not cease to be. green leaves were here;
But it was the foliage of the rocks; the birch,
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,
With hanging islands of resplendent furze:
And, on a summit, distant a short space the house in mid citrus groves
By any who should look beyond the dell,


The meadow of tulips in gored hues had been everywhere seen.
I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said back then
'These thoughts and emotions and this view of wild nook,
Are like precious treasure beyond any measure '
Soon did the spot became my other home; my shelter from the vile hand
My shrine; my dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.


Long lived in me the scenery of the Shepherds who had seen me there,
These thoughts; that contemplation to whom I never in my frivolous idle talk
Have told these thoughts of fancy, to anyone around
Years after I am gone and shunned in my grave,
None will recall these fantasy; it will evaporate into the thin air,
As if they never happened; they never lived; never did zeal the human mind

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