The floating mountains of silver clouds
Flushed with gold and pink
As the sun peeks from the horizon
Staining the sky with a flood of light
Prying slowly the translucent ice,
With its warmth,
That is trapping the stream
Loosening my frozen voice of desire
That haunts our dreams
With its unending hopes
That opens beyond the tinted horizon
Like eternity
And this stretching sigh
Sings through the sir
A sweet breeze
Brushing the daisies and violets
Past the birds brooding in the trees
And their firm foliage that dapple
In the dawn
Over shady grooves
Rustling through the deep forest
Around the sprawling valleys
The western hills
The northern mountains
The eastern plains
The southern lakes
Crying all the same:
“Spring has arrived!”
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