spring

spring

This is a beautiful day,
the sea-breeze is softly embracing me
and I think of a bush that grows by the wayside into my village
only angels can spin such a bush for us to enjoy a day like this.
The finely spun bush stays for a few days but take off a nightfall
not to be seen again before next spring.
The rose bushes are hanging over the fence in a symphony
for the eye and aroma.
Yes, spring is here, a time when everything is eternal before
the cruel burns the landscape yellow and dry,
and we dream of the sea.