These are the sounds that Wordsworth heard -
The rush of the wind, the song of the bird.
These are the sights that Coleridge knew -
The re-charged sun and the cloudless blue.
These are the smells, these the perfumes -
The scent of the crocus and primrose in bloom.
These are the feelings the poets outpoured,
While the world sprang to life and the ice thawed.
Now I myself feel the emotions they felt,
As the buds unfold and the snows melt.
10/4/11
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem