Friend of ages past, keeper of legends, The pussy willow, soft and downy, Has spread its branches all around; Once more, fragrant spring Has stirred the air with its wing. Small clouds drift in a flock, Bathed in warmth and light, And captivating dreams Seek entry to the soul once more. The gaze is held by scenes Of endless variety; A crowd of idlers stirs and hums, Rejoicing in something... A secret yearning Kindles the imagination— And over every soul Spring sweeps its way.
