The lilac soon will burst in bloom.
The stream again strikes up a tune.
The southern breeze is flying high
And driving clouds across the sky.
The birch-tree twig awakes in bud.
Its rising sap is my own blood.
A thrill of freedom long concealed
Sweeps like a wind across the field.
It sails the sky on white cloud-pillows,
It sways upon the weeping willows,
Then darts with swallows through the field
That thrill of freedom now revealed.
The bell a hundred times will ring
Of love and joy, delights of spring:
Be gay and happy, earthly brother!
The wind-winged heart is leaping farther:
It shuns lone paths across the fields
When to that freedom thrill it yields.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem