I sing the spring, the light,
a budding young green hope
my sigh of love is my heart
every year I go day and night
my blood is a playful kid
and the sun bends to me
and laugh at me, how cunning
Oh pump, colour, oh rich Spring
on grassy land weed grass
the breeze is a violin
they spit young girls
and the faces are glad
shepherd gains a love break
and my throat makes the exclamation
our Old Earth is rotating
and how tall is the blue sky
here there are ample carpets
and there, in the North,
where would I never think of it
but I'm not going to North
scream make a poor throat
Oh, my Earth is spinning
breathing love fever
but the Winter is coming, who is a witch
Oh, pump color, oh rich Spring
And death cries
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem