Ephemeral winds of the South, scattered hither and thither,
Fade and shrivel away despite the wrinkled dream of King.
Haply the Twinleaf comes untimely and Alyssums wither,
Shall I dance and evermore confuse all seasons for spring
Or shall I dangle my spring and chase my palpable winter?
Lithe morns placate my anguish and lush earth my ferocity
I shall henceforth defer my acrid storms, and blithely chant
A hymn of budding spring clothed with a greenish alacrity
One moment past midnight and I still sing blasé of all Pain
O, for a passage full of beauty! O, for this change of heart!
Adieu! Adieu frosty days of the unprecedented tranquillity
These Eastern clement wafts enliven my sense and my soul
Upon my heartstrings they play, and my murky Pain wanes
As though of Lethe I drank or slumped into a state of torpor
That only unleashes forgetful moments and earthly ecstasy
O, for a winter full of cryptic warmth! O, for a warm spring!
Tasting of my Mother’s coffee in a Mashta behind the vale
And of the fragrant flowers reminiscent of the years of yore
I know not what fall and winter might have left in my soul,
Save what the vale of tears has thrown upon my shoulders.
I know not what my friends or foes might have knit for me
I, all the same, know that Twinleaf shall trounce Alyssums,
For the sapphire sky and the June charms cleanse all shade.
Rustles underneath my feet, springy chirps from the boughs
And easeful ripples from the dales fall like balm to my ears.
I know not what heavenly bliss spring might cast before me
Nor what that West twist might affix to my profound fears.
Still, I chant a hymn of budding spring oblivious to rainfall,
For the voyage of subtle metamorphosis demands a rainbow.
Author: Sara Mehadar.