The fragrances of Spring scented the air,
And creeks are running full of melted snow,
My eyes could not keep foolishly from glare,
Of early morning sun's radiating glow;
More buds have opened up, aroused from sleep,
To greet beholders with their prime display,
And best before the sun has climbed too steep,
Before the dewdrops opted not to stay;
But Springtime, has truly arrived this time?
My heart hears no sweet songs that play within,
My pen conjures not any single rhyme,
From sorrows I scored not a single win;
......I grieve not when a good season departs,
......But love it better when another starts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great sonnet here, mate! Nice rhymes! xx