Make your own free website on Tripod.com

Spring

The treasure slept under the silver sun
For that much time were found,
When the white yarn
Were melted by the sun and gone.

The eyes are not fully waking up,
The arms are not stretched out,
A place that is a little pale,
And all the night sleeps was still in her breath.

She feels fragrant and familiar,
She wears the warmness of the sun,
She heard the murmur of the stream,
It's time to wake up!

Painters paint pretty part of the tone,
The greatest writers given up describing the grand glow,
They say, "We've never seen such sweet green."
All the passions of life came alive.