The start of Spring,
Ah, the most moving time of the year.
Do you hear the lark?
She's up in the tree tops,
Singing her song, loud and proud,
While her feathers glisten in the bright, morning sun.
Do you smell the flowers?
That had just bloomed,
Their scents,
Filled the air around me,
If you look close,
You can still see the left-over dew on their light colored petals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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