Spring

Spring the warrior hither comes,

bowstring formed by rows of bees.

And his darts tipp'd with buds

wound our hearts with sweet lovelonging.

Now the trees put forth their flowers,

on the lakes the lilies fair

show their heads midst the waves

melting hearts with sweet lovelonging.

What fair maid can vie with spring?

What sweet voice the cuckoo's song?

Or smiling teeth the jasmine's hue?

Or rosy lips the op'ning flowers?

Bending down with blushing buds,

flaming mango branches wave

to and fro with the breeze

filling hearts with sweet lovelonging.

And within the lotus flower

dwells her love, the murm'ring bee

who with kiss and embrace

satisfies her sweet lovelonging.