Love and Spring

I must get out, I must get to you,

I must tell it to you myself:

You are my Spring, only you

In these bright days.

I no longer wish to see the roses

nor the green meadow;

I no longer to want to go to the forest

for its scents and sounds and shadows.

I no longer want the blowing air,

nor the rushing waves,

I no longer want to listen to

the birds and their songs.

I want to get out, I want to get to you,

I want to tell it to you myself:

You are my Spring, only you

in these bright days.