Quite early in spring it is flowering,
delicate flowers on an erect stem
while all the birds in excitement sing,
at the beginning of spring I see them,
there is something in its simple beauty,
drawing big butterflies that do flutter,
is given in love, respect and duty,
in the colour of yellow-white butter,
bringing sweet words that other can utter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem