Ah, how loud the bird sings in the Spring,
soaring through the pleasant sky,
he carries the world on a wing,
oh, please, do not say good-bye.

The drenched moon draws him back to the nest,
eagerly waiting for the moon to set,
my heart lies to rest,
predicting whether I shall regret.

Counting down to the sun's awakening,
anticipating the sounds of happiness,
with the memories of winter, this is threatening,
knowing once Spring flees, we would both conjure a mess.

But I do not stray,
my heart yearns for his hymn,
cannot run away,
even if the night appears grim.