Spring is the season
To be happy for no reason
For spring gives you the 'joie de vivre.'
The eyes dance with emerald fire
Seeing the hibiscus bushes blooming
Among the green and whispering leaves.
While the cathedral bell strikes the hour,
Doves coo in the shade
Making love as gently
As the tide touches the shore.
Spring announces the days of warm desire.
While it offers silent salutation
Pregnant with peace,
Young and old couples kiss passionately
And make love
Filling the pine-scented wood
With soft animal moans.
While the tourists lie down
In front of a warm bonfire
Burning with a smooth steady flame,
The jasmines opening in the dark,
The pomegranates splitting
And the fishermen going for a night catch,
The mice and the owls searching
The paddy fields in the moonlight,
The moon blushes and hides
Her beautiful round face
Behind the clouds.
A dreamer utterly beyond capture,
Experiencing solitude
In an almost existential condition,
Dismissing the world as a bag of nuts,
The poet goes where Spring is
Among a profusion of rose bushes
With a smile, a little mollified.
Far from the glittering world of flappers,
Fast cars and furs,
A world of comfort and cafe',
Ephemeral and fleeting,
With pressure and peril heaped
On all heavy shoulders,
He walks on earth
Carpeted with green grass.
The soft-scented hands of Spring
Touch him,caress him and hold him.
He hears the verses of the Ramayana,
Sees the temples of India,
Decorated with explicitly sexual images.
And while he sits cross-legged,
Enjoying the sun on his face,
He feels like an explorer
In the brink of discovery.
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