Come!

Come, bright blue holiday of spring,

With all thy hopes and fears,

And let my peace be broken,

And let my heart know tears!

Come! Spare not this weak spirit!

Wake all that sleeps to-day

In silence, and thy blossoms give

To strew along my way!

Come! though thy nights will vanish,

The nightingales grow dumb,

And though the autumn threatens

In gloom beyond thee—come!

G. Galin

translated by Alice Stone Blackwell

(Picture: Field flowers Kateryna Bilokur)