Without color and leaves on the trees
the white-gray day strips the abysses.
It seems spring is coming, and the cursed cold
above me – frowning white eyebrows.

Should I invite him? The kettle is boiling –
for my summer herbs, magic again!
And the fresh morning with eyes in the sky
for spring, caresses in its bosom hides.

Whatever I think, I already know
that winter will break in two.
The thirsty expanse – will open a temple,
hope – will find a stream…

And somewhere among the many flowers
the season will straighten me up again.
And the wind, drenched in verses
will leave me a spring branch!

In the green curls of the ivy,
Love will wake up playful again…
Ah, good news for everyone will leave,
a sparkle, in the look of love wine!