In the fading memory of a dream,
Dewdrops glisten by a silvery stream.
Such soft and delicate colours abound,
Nature is alive with beautiful sounds.
For it is the coming of verdant spring,
When flowers resurrect from winter's grave;
When treasured birds begin to sing again;
When pure joy drifts by us wave after wave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem