Spring blossom as old willow rejuvenate.
Our cup of wine has wilt since last autumn,
leaving behind only dried wine-cup.
Old feathered red moon grazed past fog,
I sat by the cold dreary stone.
Like last summer, I held a wine-cup in hand.
Kneeled, a splatter of bitter taste splash your grave,
I still remember our vow last autumn.
The two cup were filled last autumn,
this spring, I can only pour one.

The warrior walks
Dawn's first light in the forest
A babbling stream

The birds are chirping
He wades through the tide of mist
Around his ankles

The stream is ahead
Dropping his weapon he falls
The battle was won

He saved his village
But suffered a grievous wound
He reaches forward

The ice cold water
Brings wet fingers to his lips
A slight refreshment

Savoring the taste
A bed of wild flowers
A perfect cushion

Weapon behind him
He thinks about his breathing
With grass on his face

Remembers, exhale
His wife and child, inhale
Beautiful, exhale

Remembers, inhale
The days long battle, exhale
His people saved, still

Remembers, inhale
Vibrant colors of spring, still
His daughter's face, still

Remembers, exhale
Cold water on his lips, still
Birds are chirping, still

Wild flowers, still
Rays of dawn pierce the trees, still
A babbling stream

I look up
I look down
I looked behind and all around

I seek
and I’ve searched
but nothing could be found

I stop
and I stared
but there is nothing there

So why
do people say
that spring is in the air

Oh winter where are thy host?
Slain by the rising stems of spring
Bent to her will;
Restless, to plant her children
On the rotting flesh of thy comrades.

Fallen has thy stronghold
On the field of warfare,
Paid by the price of thou lust,
For thou sought to extend thy reign,
Oh foolish one,
Aren't thou but a cog,
Only summoned when appointed?

Oh spring,
With thy sacred wit
Take thy seat in the midst of men, and
Massage thy hands on earth's body,
That thy scent melts
Winters stench.

At once,
Blast the horns of victory
To wake our furry neighbours,
For the dread of winter
Lays under thy feet.

And draw out the curtains
Of terror to welcome
Rays of glee from on high;
Hushing the howling winds
With bird of bliss,
Singing songs of praise, unto
Yahweh.