Bulbs and buds burst forth
in a sweet refrain of joy.
Spring song sung again.
Spindrift blossom lands
softly on naked blackthorn.
Falls fast - leaving sloe.
Spring's warm caresses
will decorate the wood-lands
in their nascent green.
A neighbour's front lawn,
carpeted with violets,
is a purple haze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem