The Happy Days Of Spring Poem by Nero CaroZiv

The happy days of spring; over a vermilion tulip hill the warm sun thrusts its beams
The time of Passover; that was the time when lush meadow, grove, and trickling distilled streams,
The earth, so calm and beautiful and every common sight,
In that childhood world to my joyful soul did seem
Appareled in celestial yet holy, unique unduplicated light,
An entity that would not return; a glory and a freshness of a dream.      
It is not now as it hath been in the beloved days of childhood; the days of yore;
Wherever I turn, whosesoever I may,
Be it in any season;  by night or day,
The things which I have seen then;  I now can see no more


True, nowadays I notice the seven colors rainbow comes and goes,
I adore the odor of  a lovely full bloom rose;
And the moon shines over nocturnal cat with solemn delight
Her orbit so fresh around in the vaults when the heavens are bare;
I watch the drops of waters on a starry night
How they are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is everyday a repetitive glorious birth;
But yet I know, wherever I turn, venture or go,
I cannot avoid the awareness that there has passed away some glory from my life my earth


Who would forget the time when the birds would sing a joyous song,
At the dusk of summer day while the young lambs and regurgitating cows were bound
To the temple young boys choirs sound,
To me alone in these reminiscences there are sadness and grief:
Mingled with some utterance that yields thought strength and relief,  
That I strengthen me and again I am strong:
The desert water nourishes the yellow flowers of cactus and blow their trumpets from the steep;
Even though more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains blue hue throng,
The winds rise and come to me the same way in days of yore from the fields of sleep
 


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