We have reached the winter's end,
There is spring upon the coast,
And the river's gentle bend
Is devoid of snow and frost.
There are buds upon the limbs,
And a chick is in the tree
And the little newborn lambs
Bleat in amiability.
There is sweetness in the air
We can taste it, with the earth
Full of leaves from blooming pears
And the raindrop's sparkle-mirth.
We have left the ice behind
There is newness coming through
If we search, then we will find
Newness in our spirits, too.
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